

" ' ^ " '"oo^ ^ 

* vQo ^ g W.K r^- * 'J * '^ 

^ s»<>^>y.'7/-dF '^ ■ ^« ^ ® • •*4 >* 

V.O, -> *''’%f\s.., *»M0’ /■ % "» 

ev..5).*. . ^'^'Jfmi^'% v' »v*o, '> 

^ ?V.\\\t^ In / / .‘^l ^ ^ 

.c-i 



^ sXV 



O^ s" ’ 






i\ 


>y 

^ <> 



^0' c ^ ' * * ' -via. ® ’ 

^ '^>01)'^ ^/J?Pp:^ \c 

■€ ^ 1 ■“ )^id 

^ % 1,^ ^ ^ ♦ 

„0 cx > 

\' »’'”»/^ '''"o'^ v^** / 

* ' AW^2 ' lA'f' - 

l-O^^ c 0 ^ ♦ ^"^2' ' “ . 

r A ‘ — ' ‘■ 



AV o ‘f/ ■ '^'^AV " ^ 

' ' * « ‘ Nr < 



* « 


A ^^T^/Ziuje A <c. 

« I 1 “ 

'» ^ k''''1L^'>''o 

z T • 2 ^ 



o 

2 








^ ^ it a\ 


t » B 


- S 

*» ^ 


^ ^ ^ ^ c ° ^ ^ >p 

o o' •> ^ ’ 

A^ 0(\!//^ 'f‘ fy^ <t ^ 

v'' •' *»'^’’\'t 




S '“ v' \ 


l" 

X 

O. A^’ „N 0 :<■<.''' ■‘'''■''’a^^ ."» « '"^ 


.V ■^. 



■' 


^ ✓ _ 

'V ' “ ‘ ' '/ ' 'J^ cP' .X ^ 



^ V 

"" ■x'^' '\ "" 

^ -. . o- - ■. s-\A ■ 

' 0 ✓ -:y' aX Mni/Z^ 'f 

" -o c^^ = ^ .X = 

c>o . 


= S)5 

> v\- ^ 


‘ ,X.^’ %/* 

^ * 5^ 



\ ^ 





/:' /i r* ‘=t 

-'‘ ■%° y “ 








,#■ 


" c'5 -r 


0 » >. 


: x® 


<>^ _ X 


" '"O 0 


k 
o 

> \V d- 

' .0^ 

s. V. »> « r * \ V <r n . % 




J 1.J ^ ' -^ * <t . , 

’N 0 " C /, (X' <» 

0®' ^ ^ 

V/ , c-V^ V AV^ y 


v^ » 


x0®< 


■O.. * a N o ’ 


0 ~ S ^ ^ T ^ 

^// C‘ 

•ts '■ ^ 



</V ^ 

</> ,^v «, 


4-^ 

, ■ <>. 



,0^ ‘<‘' ZJ'r CG 


'K< <■ 

Cl^ o 














. S <\ ^ 0 I). X ^ ^ ^ , 


x0°-<. 



'*oo'‘ 


>' ,#''' ».,'■* S » « , a K 0 ' \v .„ 

v^ '" y ' y - 

r ^ ^ <»r jr^^mc^ o 





8 J ' 







'/XA z 













* » . 




mar 




t 


5 i[li 








‘"l 


\ 


r 


‘ ' ’V' l.-'*'l 


j V 




r 


• t 








S' si' 


' ''T«|’S, 


\ 


w« * 


11 ► '• 




•Fj '■ 




’’ •.* 


> I 




Lv 


f • 




\ ft 


y 


4 i 




U‘ 












yf. 


v;,x 


4< 




w, 


A' 


Vi 




I i 






•: f 




A*">w 


>•<? 


r^ V 


1^. 


A- 




f. 




"fy 


t 






h 


• t 


^ m- * *d 


‘ju: 










' « M ^ 


1%V 






iV',s 




If *' f 




A 1* 


1 


• ^ 


I ^ 


it . # 


r>;- 




•• ‘P 


4f-^ 


V 4L 


y ■ t' 




•J f' 


' I 




« 


liu 






i%Vii»-; 


*5 


4%, 


1^ 








t • 




•*# 


‘Ar 




‘\yy‘i 


’v, i^-:hv 


f* f 


#' » 




’(5-1 








. < 


m H 'U 

^ V *4 


>*.'S 


' • ■* 


r* 


y 




;/ 






V ’ 


V 


t 




l^'it ■^•1;-.', ,ic . J*' */^i 

< j'' ' Mr ,Wr' 


m 


f w 


Ai.' 


V -• li 


i m 


1 '■ 


V - A 


V ‘ 

7 


’iOV'. / ^',A .-- XuMv '•■ -a 'JSr 

- * 


* V 


•si y 


%'r 


hi 


4\ 


A 


.M 


i,f>' 


'4 


* 




4 t 


.y.i’ 


I J -, 


•y " '■ 


/'• ‘ •>! ,'^ 


f. 


/ 


. L‘ I 


I rf 


r ii 


(I 




/if 


r V/» 






y-i 


•*Siif' 


Ui?. 


p. 


i* 


W' 




.ij 


:♦ 1 


'fA 


« '• 


U i« 


("5 


li/;#' 




r 




<i 




‘/Jlil 


PJ 4 I 


Si 




/i' 










w ‘CJ ^ ♦ rf . ‘ 

k'^W*' f • ' s 

♦ \ •' ^ " •• ’ ■ 

». V ‘ I' ^ . 

V*' ‘ 




4/* 




iS’ 


' .- 1 


>»T/i 




pf^X’ 










> • 


i'>'r# 


■■ 

* •' f * y ,* 

4 lA • * ’ * 


’ 4 


P • » 


t 

. ► ^ 


» ¥ 



4> 


■H « 


■HI 


S' 






V V > 


-n; 




^ V . 


,r, 


f \ 


•>l' 




’itK 




Vv 


4l^! 


T 

!i 6 ' 


w. 


U’’ 


Vi 




Vr- 


S ► 


• > 

■i 


. ' Jl. (4 . ' 

' V • 7.V' 4 


IVi T^, 


^ '1.* ( •• 


I ./ V •• 




A.O, 




■v-r 




jViJ, 


n?^ 


■» \> V 


' \ V 


V: .• . 'iv 


»>r.r 


^rl, V 


■•‘A. 


r-»» 






■‘.C ' 






ym 




.1*1 




.\i, 




t *'/.4jj 




»> 




* . ‘‘t 








-• .1 T i ‘■‘■•'M 

'7 


fi 




yA^ 




‘v:, 


.« ,' r 


< > • .^^ 




' L 'I 


‘»‘;l • 


.r; ■ ! 

v’t' : . ** >... 










r>v_ 


-MK': 




jr, 


i'-t. 


» 4’ 


t 1. 


W 3 




3 \r 




.:m0. 


. 'Jxl 




■^ y 




‘iV. 








.f.K 




» r 






'4*^ 


s*. 


I > I 


>: -rpVt 




V, 


VS' 


V ,f 


r i 


L»LV 


'tV^ 


i ■.%• 


V.l '■}**/ ' 

•'» K ’ 

^W.r .’ ' 


^5^ 




'KY 






4'- 


/'.J 


'sf. 


m 


'V| 


4 V.' V 


''<• ‘-v^'^ - • 

,■ 'TiV'V’ t *• ■ ' 


'‘/4, 


! ■ 


'. ) 


-‘ , Wi. 






S‘i. 1 




‘i 'rfe VC'* 

'V'';,tv.*-\’ • : ' ■ ' 

*• • .* A • 

r^ ' -. ^:' ■' • ■ •» 






I 'I 




V-t^.. 


^.^«f 


:>..s 


*• • 

■''■ ■'. 

■. <i :.v>- -j/',*-.- 

I ^ * 

, ,/,S' 






•ii 




1 


i[ 'V 




'i^ ,ot|N 




J'* 


.*■ 


It 


*♦,1 




'T 


■>•':( f 


' r' 7 ' : J 


N”' 






»4\*V 




... ^ 




I » V " 



^y4‘'> ■' 

■'m A ': . • 


*1 >v 




f V 


^ 

•;ftf 








t“' '*.1 


>/C 


' .w 


* r ' 


» 


> 4 


S, ' 


y .V 






M 




V /»./i 




\i 






V V 


.*1 

H: 








m 


.«• 'i I.* ,rA'>*^U‘ 
S/i<^ • ^ ft' . 




V¥ . 4. 


A ‘^-5. 




\ 




■ t t.rxA 


V‘4. 




!■ 




? V, 


■>':k 




•ys^ 




f\; 


k'k' 'f. 






fii V) 


V) 


IkSjH 


»->» A 


!♦» 


'’S!;.tf 


’* ;.L, 


,.S 

te!' 



/ .'‘J 

, f'^W * 




fi \ 


.V- 




;>y 








.-If 


A '■ 


i * 


:fi 


'.V 








V 


U?« r /, 4 J 


nil 




.:v!^ 


:Vi: 






J‘ 






‘v\j 


iO^V 




.\ f *• 


iSS^^'riit 


n-rT I 


V *.v.^ 






•r-.r 




SI 













poor Ibuman IRature. 

A Musical Novel. By Miss Elizabeth God- 
frey. 2d Impression. i2mo. $1.50. 

Being the story of certain Wagnerian singers at the Court 

Opera of lilankenstadt (said to be Dresden). 

Bookman: “It is curiously convincing. The characters, 
too, are peculiarly real . . . Each and every one stands 
out with vivid distinction, and is not soon to be forgotten 
. . . The portrayal of local life, particularly that apper- 
taining to operatic circles, is full of freshness and inter- 
est ... It is well written, it is nobly felt, it is alto- i 
gether an admirable work.” 

New York Tribune: “One of the cleverest musical 
novels we know, and it is particularly creditable in that 
it holds nothing of .lie hysterical gush with which the i 
feminine writer usually fills fiction of this kind . . . 
The study of the group of singers at the Royal Opera in 
a minor German city it astonishingly well done, and so is 
the portrait of the great tenor’s peasant wife . . . 
so unmistakably true that she must have been drawn from 
life ... an uncommonly attractive and interesting 
novel.” 

Boston Transcript: “We have nothing but praise to say 
of this fine, strong tale, and can recommend it heartily 
and without qualification.” 

Critic : “ The numerous admirers of the earlier book 
[“ The First Violin ”] will find pleasure in this one . . . 
she shows a thorough knowledge of her subject . . . 
may be recommended to all interested in operatic life.” 

Ihe Academy (London): “Among the incidental figures 
are some excellent studies . . . Miss Godfrey has given 
care to every detail. Her literary skill is notable. The 
story is told with grace and delicacy and no little 
strength.” 

HENRY HOLT & CO. New York. 


II, 1900 



THE HARP OF LIFE 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1900 


TWO COPIES aE' ;ElVEO, 


Library of Conafra«% 

0 f th9 

m I 9 1900 

Uegltt«r of Copyrightib 


PZ 3 
,337 H 


56154 


Copyright, xgoo, . 

BY 

HENRY HOLT & CO. 


SliUiJUL; 

V 


ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK 


TO 


Hbte. trempleman 

THIS STORY OF THE ART SHE LOVES IS 
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 


^ cP y' 

•j f? I ,rf- ' * 




There are two Master-Harpers whose touch upon the 
strings has power to draw out the complex harmonies which 
make the music of life. We submit willingly enough to him 
of the crimson garments and shining eyes, and our hearts 
sway to the rhythm of his playing; but when the black- 
robed one comes out of the shadows and lays a chill hand 
upon us we shrink and wail, not knowing that without him 
our life's music would be but trivial tunes, forgotten as soon 
as heard. . . . And the names of the two players are Love 
and Sorrow, 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I. 

A GIRL and two men. One tuning a violin and 
looking down at her sideways, smiling, confident, 
something over-bold perhaps ; the other standing 
erect, stiff, deprecating, with a shadow of vexation on 
his face. The woman between them, resting her el- 
bows on the table and her chin in the palm of one 
hand, glanced from one to the other with an air of 
childlike candour— or so it seemed, though there was 
perhaps the ghost of a smile lurking in the corners of 
her eyes where the curly lashes met and mingled. 

Not a novel situation by any means : many come- 
dies — and tragedies — begin like that, but the world is 
growing very old, and situations have a trick of re- 
peating themselves ; aye, even in these days when 
they would have us believe that woman no longer 
cares to captivate, and enters the arena only to com- 
pete with men. The little soprano fancied herself a 
very modern woman indeed, yet perhaps she may 
have been secretly conscious of the Ewig-weibliche 
whereby she held those two in the hollow of her hand 
— the white magic which it is given to some women, 
and those not always the sweetest nor the handsomest 
— to wield like a spell. There were three or four other 
women in the room whose claims to good looks might 


2 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


rank higher than those of Rose Alba, yet it was across 
her that the Conductor and the First Violin were ex- 
changing looks like sword-thrusts, and at her elbow 
the rival bouquets lay. 

So much for the personages. The scene of the little 
drama was the performer's room at the back of the 
great Palm-house which Pinecliff had recently 
erected near its sea-front, and which under Graham 
Knowles's management had won celebrity as a 
forcing-house for the best music in the south of Eng- 
land, no less than for the tall palm-trees which were its 
distinguishing adornment. 

Wailing sounds through the half-open door spoke 
of the tuning of instruments : the orchestra was fill- 
ing up rapidly. The Conductor addressed his rival 
with an irritating assumption of command. 

‘‘ It is time you were in your place, Redway." 

‘‘ Same to you," was the half-laughing retort ; for 
there had always been practical equality between the 
chief and his first lieutenant. The latter lingered a 
moment, for he always exercised to the full the 
leader’s privilege of being last to take his seat, then 
went with a shrug of the shoulders and a significant 
glance at the lady which left him, though in retreat, 
master of the situation. 

The one who remained failed to follow up his ad- 
vantage ; he seemed diffident and ill at ease. '' I too 
must leave you," he said awkwardly, ‘‘ unless you 
would honour me by coming round to the front to 
hear the overture. I have reserved stalls for you." 

Thanks, no. I have heard ‘ Tannhauser ’ ad nau- 
seam, I am very well where I am. I don’t think I 
will take the trouble to move until I am obliged." 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


3 


She sniffed her flowers indifferently, first one bunch 
and then the other, and took no heed of his manifest 
disappointment. Her sister did, but her assurance of 
her eagerness to hear the renowned Pinecliff band 
fell flat ; indeed, it was hardly heard. So she too 
stayed where she was, and the tenor, who like them- 
selves came from town, took the vacant chair beside 
Rose Alba and entertained her with scraps of gossip 
about various public singers while the overture was 
being played. 

By and by the Conductor reappeared : the right 
to hand the soprano on for her solo belonged to him^ 
and he was not minded to forego it, but he dared not 
ask whether it were by inadvertence that her appar- 
ently careless hand took up the white bouquet — not 
his. That fact was not lost upon Redway, who was 
to play the obligato to her first song, and his manner 
showed that he appreciated its significance. 

She certainly understood the scope of her own 
beauty and the way to set it off. With the usual fringe 
she would have been merely an ordinarily pretty, fair 
girl ; with her hair brought low and puffed out above 
her small ears, after the fashion of Aubrey Beards- 
ley’s strange women in the early numbers of The 
Yellow Book,” there was a touch of the fantastic 
that arrested the eye. So too in the cut of the plain 
black satin gown which an unappreciative woman in 
the front row compared to a pen-wiper : it fitted the 
narrow hips like a sheath and spread out fanwise. 
above the little pointed toes. The severe blackness, 
cut heart-shaped over the white bosom, made the 
slender throat, round which hung only a fine gold 
chain, look still more slender, and was far more 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


4 

effective than the chiffons and roses of the other 
singers. 

She had the rare gift of looking charming while 
she sang ; no grimaces nor forced smiles marred the 
effect of her high notes ; the clear, well-modulated 
voice flowed without effort through the pretty parted 
lips as she answered and strove to rival the bird-trills 
of the violin ; for the song was The Bird and the 
Maiden.’’ 

‘‘ She is like a Greuze,” remarked a man in the stalls 
in an audible aside. Something in the childish con- 
tour of the face, the soft lips showing the small white 
teeth, the innocent wide-open blue eyes, justified the 
comparison, and his companion nodded an assent, add- 
ing, It is a cold little voice though ; the notes drop 
out like a string of beads.” 

Behind her rose the close-packed ranks of players 
and desks, for there was an orchestral accompaniment 
to the song. Just a confused mass of heads it seemed : 
heads brown and black, heads rough and smooth — 
the rough predominating, for the band were more 
than half foreigners. Yet after all every one diverse, 
with his own idiosyncracies, his own story, to himself 
the centre of his own world ; every one possessed of 
a gift, a faculty, that gave him his place, his value in 
the scheme of things, yet here only part of an undis- 
tinguished crowd, even as the music that he made 
formed only a single strand in the blended harmony. 

From this background the First Violin stood out 
detached, not only by the separate part he bore in 
the song, but no less by virtue of a dominant per- 
sonality. Neither he nor his fiddle was ever lost in a 
crowd, and it was this quality that made him an in- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


5 


comparable leader. He stood forward, not tall, but 
firm and square-set, with an air as though the world 
— or at least the realm of music — belonged to him, 
and held his violin with an easy mastery, as he made 
it warble and trill through the nightingale’s song, 
while on his lips hovered a triumphant smile as his eyes 
lighted on the white flowers Rose Alba carried. The 
other man, the Conductor, in his post of vantage, 
seemed out of it. 

At the conclusion of the concert Redway, whether 
by the soprano’s management or his own it would be 
difficult to say, succeeded in being the one to hand 
her to her carriage. The other was so much the 
slower man, he was constantly suffering himself to 
be forestalled. 

The successful one took the opportunity to whisper 
with the faintest pressure of the hand that rested on 
his arm : '' You carried my flowers ; that was good 
of you.” 

Oh, were they yours ? They were white, and you 
know I am in mourning.” 

He stood still an instant, and his eyes flashed in 
the bright light above the doorway. 

You knew they were mine,” he said angrily. 

Why on earth should you pretend you did not ? ” 

A smile flickered for an instant at the corner of her 
mouth. Few things entertained her better than put- 
ting men in a passion. 

‘‘ Well, perhaps I did,” she said ; ‘‘ you are quite 
welcome to fancy so if it pleases you.” 

They had come out meanwhile upon the wide flight 
of steps, and she paused to look round for her sister. 

How pretty ! ” she exclaimed, as she gazed back at 


6 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


the wide glass hall filled with the dazzle of electric 
light, in the midst of which masses of tall palms and 
tree-ferns stood out with magic clearness. 

‘‘ Beautiful ! ’’ he echoed ; but his eye had travelled 
further, to where Orion reared himself above the pine 
trees whose ragged outlines showed inky black against 
the star-pricked night sky. Beyond the noise of feet 
and voices, of a crowd dispersing, the crunch o£ 
wheels, the harsh call for so-and-so’s carriage, was the 
enfolding sound of the never-resting sea. He was 
silent a moment, listening for it as it came again and 
again, till she cried with a little quick movement : 
“ Ah, here they are at last ! Ethel, I thought you were 
lost. Now where is the fly? ” 

In a minute it came up, and Redway handed her in,, 
tucking her cloak carefully about her, and taking an 
unnecessary time over it ; or so thought the other, 
who had to content himself with the sister, and wait 
his turn to make his adieux. 

Some spirit of mischief certainly possessed Rose 
Alba that evening, for she leaned across the Conductor 
while in the very act of shaking hands with him, to say 
to his rival : Oh, Mr. Redway, my sister and I are 
going to make a pilgrimage to the New Forest to-mor- 
row; would you care to join us? Bicycling of course. 
We feel we really ought to see something of the neigh- 
bourhood, so we shall not go back to town till the 
evening.” 

Before the man addressed could answer, his chief 
had spoken : 

It is no use for you to make any engagements 
for to-morrow. Redway; you will have to conduct; I 
am going to town on business.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


7 


The carriage door slammed. The girl looked out 
a moment at the two black figures standing together 
against the brilliant background, then turned to her 
sister with a laugh on her lips. But the laugh was not 
answered. 

Em, how can you ! ’’ 

Rose Alba, who in private life answered to the plain 
name of Emily White, shut her eyes and nestled her 
head into the angle of the carriage without answer- 
ing, but Ethel went on : 

‘‘ Em, tell me candidly, do you really care about 
Roger Redway, or are you only using him to prick 
the other on? Because if you are, it strikes me you are 
going too far.’’ 

My good child, what a baby you are ! And how 
literal! You don’t suppose I should think seriously 
about either of them ? ” 

Then how can you ! ” said Ethel again with still 
more reproachful emphasis. 

How can 1 1 How can I help it ? I did not make 
myself.” 

'VThose two were friends,” went on Ethel, ^'and in 
a couple of days you have made them hate each other. 
You may think it something to be proud of. I should 
feel very differently if I were in your place.” 

Brat, you are far too censorious for your age. I 
shall have to take an older and easier chaperon. You 
must admit, though, it is very funny to see them mak- 
ing themselves so ridiculous.” 

I did not think you were so primitive, Em ; you 
who always profess to be a thoroughly up-to-date 
jvoman.” 


8 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


^‘Primitive! You do say the oddest things, child. 
Explain/’ 

“ I will explain in a fable — well, not a fable exactly,, 
because it happens to be true ; it is rather what Mrs. 
Malaprop would call an alligator.” 

‘‘ All right ; get on. Let us have the ‘ alligator ’ 
by all means. Once upon a time — ” 

Once upon a time I was doing my hair by the win- 
dow looking on to the old garden at home when I 
heard a fearful fluttering and squealing in the privett 
bush outside, and there were two cock chaffinches 
pecking at each other’s eyes and tearing each other’s 
beautiful tail-feathers out, while the little hen sat laugh- 
ing on a flower-bed and watched to see which would 
prove the better bird. But she at least meant to take 
one of them. Now for the moral. I should have 
thought that if progress means anything, we might 
have outgrown the primitive instinct of setting men to 
fight.” 

‘‘ What a jobation ! ” said Em. But look here ; it 
is all very well to say. Let them both alone; but I 
have my way to make, and they may be very useful to 
me — one or both of them.” 

I don’t see what possible use Redway could be to 
you.” 

Nor I, just at present; but he may climb. Where 
Graham Knowles is now, he always will be. Still even 
he might push me effectively if he liked. His direct in- 
fluence of course is chiefly local and provincial, but 
his indirect is considerable ; it is worth remembering.’^ 
And then you go and insult him by leaving his 
flowers on the table and taking the other man’s ! ” 

'' Why, my child, how could I help it ? My gown 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


9 


was black and the scarlet geraniums would have sim- 
ply killed my effect. If I had carried them I should 
never have overheard the remark that I looked like 
a Greuze.^' 

‘‘ Well, you had better take care. If I know any- 
thing of faces, Graham Knowles is not a man to be 
trifled with. If you want his backing up you must 
pay the price.’' 

If the price is marrying him it is too dear.” 

Well perhaps,” admitted Ethel. I don’t care my- 
self for his narrow head and long stiff figure ; he does 
not look a bit like a musician. The other may not 
be exactly handsome, but there is more emphasis about 
him, and I like his eyes.” 

“ The other ! Oh, he is not in it.” 

Em flung back her cloak and leaned back, clasping 
a pair of very white slim arms behind her head. 

Quelle vie! ” she exclaimed as she finished a por- 
tentous yawn. I thought I should have liked the 
battle of life better, but I am getting a little tired of 
things as they are. What a slow business it is making 
one’s way! I could get on very well if there were not 
such crowds of other people always getting in the 
light. One wants a lift somehow. This singing at 
provincial concerts and private ‘ at homes ’ is poor 
work. When Carton Doyle refused me an engage- 
ment at the ‘ Frivolity ’ I almost made up my mind I 
must marry.” 

“ I wish you would,” said her sister. ‘‘ If Colonel — ” 

Oh, shut up ! ” And at the moment the fly stopped 
at the door of the hotel, and Em sprang out and ran 
in, leaving her sister to follow. 


IL 


When Doctor Octavius White died it was found 
that he had left but a slender patrimony to divide be- 
tween his four daughters. He had been a hard-work- 
ing man, but in his profession the hardest work often 
has the least to show for it. Many a time he had been 
too busy to remember and call in the money owing 
to him, oftener still too pitiful to ask it from those who 
needed his services the most and were least able to 
pay for them. The executors thought there ought to 
have been a good sum realised for the practice, which 
was an old-established one, but it appeared that of late 
years a younger and more fashionable man had settled 
in the neighbourhood with the object of “ creating ” 
a practice, and his smart brougham, his little dinners, 
and his wife’s musical at homes ” had proved a good 
form of advertisement, and had drawn away the more 
lucrative portion of the patients, who began to say that 
the old doctor’^ manner was brusque and his prescrip- 
tions old fashioned. An examination of the books, 
after driving away a few intending purchasers, had 
resulted in a very poor offer with which the trustees 
felt bound to close, on the principle that half a loaf 
is better than no bread. 

The sisters took the announcement of their narrow 
fortunes philosophically, their uncle thought; indeed 
the calmness of their demeanour .throughout had 
rather taken him aback. He had expected to be 


lO 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


II 


deluged with tears and lamentations in this house- 
hold of bereaved women from whom the sole prop had 
just been taken away, and behold, they were com- 
posedly asking for information about investments and 
prospects. Some few decorous tears were shed; the 
girls spoke with lowered voice of poor dear papa,” 
and agreed with condoling friends who said it must be 
a sad break-up for them ; but they turned their atten- 
tion at once with great good sense to considering their 
pecuniary position. The uncle tried to say to himself 
that he was thankful they were so reasonable, but he 
caught himself wondering whether if he died his little 
Madge and Molly would be so quickly consoled. 

Kindly as the old doctor had been in his work, he 
had been something of a martinet at home, with a 
vague idea that his womankind existed to darn his 
socks and order his dinners, and had always refused 
to open his mind to the perception that four grown 
women might want some further outlet for their 
energy. And they were all four energetic, hockey- 
playing, cycling, vigorous young women ; high-school 
educated too, and quite alive to the stirrings and up- 
heavals of the day. They read everything,” or 
thought they did, and had an opinion to offer on every 
subject debated in the magazines. Possibly the old man 
was mourned more sincerely in some of the alleys in 
the lowest quarter of the town, where his caustic scold- 
ings had been accompanied by an ever open hand, 
than he was in his own home. Perhaps it was rather a 
breath of emancipation than a sigh of grief that seemed 
to pass over the sisters when the blinds were drawn 
up after the funeral. 

It was not until a week later that the uncle, who had 


12 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


stayed on to look into things, gave them a clear ex- 
planation of their position, before he took his leave. 

‘‘ There is really quite sufficient to keep four ladies 
in comfort and respectability,’’ he had said to Bertha, 
the eldest, after going through the papers with her. 

Had it been necessary your Aunt Louisa and I would 
cheerfully have offered a home to one of you; but 
as it is you will do much better undivided. I should 
recommend you to look at one of those little semi- 
detached houses in Shaftsbury Gardens : it would be 
just the thing. If you want me to see the landlord for 
you I could run down again later.” 

They thanked him politely, and when they had seen 
him enter his cab and had shut the front door behind 
him, they looked at each other and laughed. 

With one consent they turned their steps away from 
the prim drawing-room close to the entrance, which 
they had been occupying in formal state during their 
uncle’s visit, and the four pairs of flying feet went up 
the stairs and along the passages to the shabby old 
schoolroom at the back of the house, where they had 
planted their standard of revolt. The drawing-room, 
usually the domain of the daughters, had never seemed 
theirs ; it had always to be kept in a condition of frigid 
order, liable to the invasion of waiting patients ; but 
up-stairs they did as they pleased. 

The youngest went straight to a cupboard, from 
which she took a small flat tin box and handed it 
round. They were not chocolates that came out of it, 
for silver match-boxes at once came into requisition. 

Presently, when the air was becoming faintly hazy, 
the eldest took up the word. 

‘‘ What a mercy it is that the Brat came of age last 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


13 


week, or Uncle Henry would have been able to inter- 
fere with us much more. Now advice is the utmost 
he can offer.^’ 

Fancy us,’’ came a voice from the depths of the 
rocking-chair as it swayed gently to and fro — ‘‘Just 
fancy us living in a semi-detached villa in reduced 
circumstances. Four decayed gentlewomen! How 
much did he say there would be, Bertie? ” 

About three hundred and fifty altogether, as far 
as I can make out. That means something less than 
ninety pounds a year apiece. Plenty for an able-bodied 
woman to start in life and feel there is something to 
fall back upon.” 

H’m,” said the one who rocked, I wish it had 
been more ; it ought to have been.” 

'' You are unpractical, Emmie. We have to do with 
what is, not with what ought to have been. Now let 
us talk out our plans. What are your views, Alice ? ” 

District nursing,” said the second sister briefly. 
‘‘ I have written already to one or two hospitals to in- 
quire about training and terms.” 

In most large families there is one with a bent 
towards good works. Alice took after her father in 
this respect, but unluckily instead of drawing them 
into sympathy, her desire of aiding humanity had 
been rather a bone of contention, since she had been 
the first to protest against his antiquated notions ; and 
as she was a straightforward woman who marched 
direct for what she wanted, they had clashed from the 
outset. 

Good,” said Bertha. I too have been making 
my plans : I am going to see what I can do in jour- 
nalism. Provincial at first, I am sorry to say, but I 


14 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


suppose one must be content to begin at the begin- 
ning. I have heard of something at Birmingham, and 
if I can once get my foot on the ladder I may work 
my way up to London later on. I fancy I have rather 
a faculty for descriptive writing.’’ 

Emmie clasped her hands behind her head and took 
another prodigious tilt backwards. I of course 
shall sing ; but I wonder how on earth one begins.” 

At a music-hall, I imagine,” laughed the youngest, 
the one they called '‘the Brat”; "one of those at- 
tached to- a low public-house, don’t you know, reek- 
ing — that is the word — with foul tobacco.” 

" Don’t be so silly, Brat. I mean how does one 
set about getting engagements.” 

" Depends what sort. I suppose one must get tes- 
timonials to begin with, and then one puffs oneself 
out in the advertisement column of some paper, and 
has cards printed and stuck in a stationer’s window.” 

" Not good enough. I don’t intend to go into that 
line.” 

" I don’t see how else you are to do it,” said Bertha, 
the practical. " Of course the thing would have been 
to have been trained at some conservatoire or 
academy ; that puts its imprimatur upon you ; but 
since you have only had private lessons I expect you’ll 
find you have to stick to the lower walks.” 

Em pouted. " What a shame it is ! ” she said ; 
" as if Madame Bianca had not taught me just as well 
here as if I had gone to her at the Royal College.” 

" If I were you,” went on the elder sister, " I should 
get Bianca to give me a good testimonial — I expect 
she would, for you won’t be big enough to get in her 
way — and then ask all our friends and acquaintance 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 15 

to get you introductions to sing at parties. You 
might really scrape up a connection that way.’' 

'' I don’t fancy that notion of scraping up. I want 
to burst on an admiring public.” 

That is simply foolish,” said Bertha. Every- 
body must begin at the beginning.” 

But some begin a good deal further on than 
others, and considering how pretty I am I ought to 
find it easier than most.” 

How can you be so vain?” said Alice. ‘‘You 
might have waited for one of us to say how pretty you 
are.” 

“ I might have waited long enough,” laughed Em, 
while the Brat took up her sister’s defence: 

“ It is not vanity ; she is merely appraising her 
looks as part of her stock in trade. Much more sen- 
sible, I think, than pretending one thinks oneself 
hideous. 1 have no doubt either that it will come in 
very handy.” 

“ Of course it will ; for what I want to do is to sing 
in light opera, and you will admit that looks count 
for something in getting an engagement for that sort 
of thing.” 

“ H’m. I doubt yours being in the right sort of 
scale for stage effects ; and candidly, my dear, I don’t 
think you sing well enough. You have a very pretty 
drawing-room voice. Voild tout! ” 

“ Well, what was the use of singing well when the 
poor old Dad would always insist on one’s hiding 
one’s talent in a napkin ? I could sing a lot better if 
I chose to grind ; but there never has been anything 
to work for till now. You’ll see I shall put my 
shoulder to the wheel. Well, now the word comes to 


i6 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


the youngest. Pray where do you feel your vocation 
to lie, Brat?"^ 

'' In taking care of you, I believe. I am quite sure 
some one will have to do that. You are far too young 
and pretty to run about the world loose. If you go 
on the stage you will have to engage me as your 
dresser. You could not do better, I assure you, for 
I understand your style, and I don’t know anybody 
whose looks depend more on get-up than yours do. 
If you take me you will be a success ; otherwise — ” 

‘‘ Come, don’t keep fooling,” said Bertha. You 
are too childish, Ethel. It is quite time we ceased to 
make a baby of you. Seriously, what do you intend to 
do ?” 

I don’t know that I have any particular talent,” 
said Ethel musingly, blowing a delicate ring of smoke, 
and watching it float up to the ceiling ; ‘‘ unless it is 
for whistling, and that I am afraid would only find a 
field in the music-hall of the ‘ reeking ’ description that 
I alluded to just now.” 

‘‘ You will have to do something lucrative, that is 
very certain. I am quite sure you will never live, dress 
— and smoke — upon ninety pounds per annum. You 
know your consumption of cigarettes largely exceeds 
any of ours.” 

You need not be afraid of my coming on you for 
cigarettes or any other necessary of life,” responded 
the Brat something tartly. ‘‘ I shall make my own 
way, never fear. Besides in any case I conclude I shall 
be kicked out of the nest. You’ll sell the furniture?” 

Certainly. We seem none of us to have any desire 
for a joint home ; but you two younger ones can have 
a month to make up your minds.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


17 


‘‘ Upon my word I don’t see why I should not do 
something in the journalistic line myself. You might 
get me on your paper, Bertha, for a weekly news-letter 
from town. I shall see no end of life, chaperoning 
Em, and I am not a bad hand at describing the fash- 
ions. Bear me in mind, won’t you? You and I will 
go up to London, Em; you shall have more singing 
lessons, and we will have a high old time. We can 
live very tolerably upon our little all till work comes 
in. You need not wait so condescendingly. Bee, for 
us ‘ younger ones ’ to be off your hands ; we’re ready 
to go just as soon as we have packed our duds.” 

The uncle was a very conscientious man, and felt 
his responsibilities towards his brother’s orphan 
daughters. After much cogition and taking of counsel 
with his wife, he sent them a letter full of sage advice 
about their entering on the life he had planned 
for them, and enclosed a paper which their 
aunt had drawn up for their guidance as to 
expenses, showing exactly what the items of the 
housekeeping should come to : So much for rent and 
taxes, so much for coals ; one servant only ; the elder 
ones must undertake the more elaborate parts of the 
cooking, and the younger girls should do the light 
housework. Everything was most carefully estimated, 
down to proper allowance of soap, candles, and black- 
ing for each week. It was a pity that so much pains 
should have been bestowed in vain; but the letter 
crossed one from Bertha, announcing their decision to 
sell the furniture and separate, each pursuing her 
own career. 

Well,” said Uncle Henry as he laid down the let- 
ter and put his spectacles in their case, they must go 
their own way ; I wash my hands of them.” 


III. 


Truly it was a pity that two men who had been 
friends, who had stood shoulder to shoulder through 
nearly seven years of difficulty and struggle, who had 
shared each other’s aims, sustained each other’s cour- 
age, and together had achieved the impossible and ac- 
complished a work which neither could have done 
alone, should now face one another with angry scorn 
in their eyes and bitter enmity in their hearts, all be- 
cause of a woman who valued neither for himself, but 
only for the hand up he might give her on the ladder 
of ambition. 

Their affection had stood the strain of professional 
jealousy, though there had not been wanting moments 
of tension between them. Graham Knowles was se- 
cretly aware of his own limitations, and was now and 
then conscious of envy, lurking as it were round the 
corner, ready to slip in between him and his friend. 
He had never allowed it a footing, but now an apple 
of discord had been cast between them that should turn 
all the sweetness of their friendship to gall. 

For it seemed to Knowles that he had been treacher- 
ously dealt with; that his comrade had deliberately 
gone about to rob him of his sweetheart, and he did 
well to be angry. He never realised how much his own 
reserve had had to do with the disaster to his hopes. 
Since he had only mentioned Rose Alba as a promis- 
ing young singer to whom he had been asked to give 

i8 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


19 


a helping hand, how should Redway know that she 
was the desire of his heart? A woman might have di- 
vined it perhaps, by the lore in which women are 
learned, but another man could not guess without 
being told what his silence and absence of mind, his 
eagerness to secure her for one of his concerts, his 
half-concealed anxiety as to her success, might mean. 
If he had guessed, Roger’s loyalty would have pre- 
vented from the beginning his regarding her in any 
other light than as bien d^autrui; but how should he 
know ? The field appeared to him to be open to both. 

The instinct of girls in love seems to be towards 
confidences ; that of a man towards concealment. He 
will not as a rule speak at all of the woman he loves 
till he can speak of her as won. While defeat is pos- 
sible he shrinks from the eye of his friend. Redway 
had always thought Knowles not much of a fellow 
for women,” and that he had regarded Rose Alba as 
already almost his own when he brought her down 
to sing for him, never entered the imagination of the 
friend who fancied he knew all his concerns. So it 
had come about that the younger, better-lookihg man 
had stepped in with the audacious self-confidence that 
goes so much farther with women than modesty ; with 
the masterful, taking-for-granted kind of manner that 
made the shyer man stand aghast, and seemed on the 
point of snatching the prize out of the just-closing 
hand of the other. 

The remembrance of all that he had done for this 
man, all the help he had extended, all the friendship 
he had shown him, rose up in bitterness before 
Graham Knowles’s eyes, and his heart cried Traitor! 
Ingrate! And Redway, stung by the sudden assump- 


20 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


tion of authority where there had been all but equality, 
muttered to himself : ‘‘Jealous fool! Does He think 
that if she cares for me, petty tyranny will help him? 

The hate that springs from love is tenfold bitterer 
than that which grows out of dislike, and the sharp- 
ness was all the greater because still they wanted each 
other, and the old friendship died hard. Perhaps there 
was a consciousness in the minds of both that the 
friendship was after all worth more than the woman 
it was being sacrificed to. Yet both were too stub- 
born to yield. The grit which had made them win 
success out of the very jaws of failure made it abso- 
lutely impossible for either to give way or stand aside. 

Ten years ago Roger Redway had come to Lon- 
don, without money, without friends, without intro- 
ductions ; with only his fiddle and a scholarship, won 
not only against odds, but in the very teeth of pro- 
hibition, to carve out a career for himself if he could. 

It was doubly hard on him to have to do it, instead 
of finding h's path in life made smooth for him, since 
he was born to an inheritance of music ; it was bred 
m the very bone of him, and he, if any one, might 
have looked for a fair start. His father was a com- 
poser of eminence, as had been his father before him ; 
he was moreover a Doctor of Music and organist of 
the ancient Cathedral of Dronechester, and might 
have given his boy every advantage ; but he was one 
of those abnormal developments, not uncommon 
amongst musicians, whom the most harmonious of 
the arts seems by some mysterious alchemy to set at 
discord with common life : a harsh, bitter, discon- 
tented man, thwarted in his ambitions as a composer, 
believing critics and concert directors alike in league 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


21 


against him ; always at furious odds with his Precen- 
tor and his Dean, bullying his pupils, quarrelling with 
his patrons, and finding in his musical sensibility a 
scourge for his own back. His neighbours asserted 
that he had worried his young wife into her grave ; 
had she lived she might perhaps have exerted a civil- 
ising influence. His little boy, who sang before he 
could talk. Doctor Redway regarded as a means of 
revenging himself on Music by bringing up to the 
Law. Of course Nature was too strong for him, and 
he had to learn that a son is an individual, not a piece 
of property to be disposed of at the sole will of his 
parent. 

He refused to teach the child music, but forgot that 
he had not a monopoly of the art, and the little fellow 
picked it up here, there, and everywhere in spite of 
him. When other children spent their coppers in mar- 
bles and bull’s-eyes, the little Roger saved his till he 
could buy an old fiddle out of a pawn-shop, and he 
coaxed one of the vicars-choral of the cathedral, who 
was keeping company with his father’s housekeeper, 
to teach him to play it in the back kitchen well out 
of earshot. The organ of course was strictly tabooed. 
His enthusiasm was the more remarkable as there 
was nothing of the Wunderkind, the refined, spirit- 
ualised genius, about the child ; he was a bit of a 
ragamuffin, a rough rude boy, ready with his fists and 
rebellious against authority, with much of his father’s 
gruffness, tempered however by the happier, whole- 
somer nature bequeathed him by his mother. 

By and by he was sent to the grammar school, an 
ancient institution where the lads of Dronechester had 
for generations been flogged through their Latin 


22 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


grammar. He did not take much to humane letters, 
but fought and scrambled his way up, developing in 
the process a toughness that stood him in good stead 
later on. For awhile his musical life was checked, 
and Doctor Redway began to congraulate himself on 
having done the right thing with him. At seventeen 
Roger’s school-days were abruptly ended, and he was 
told he was about to be articled to a lawyer. Then 
came the conflict of wills. The young man had no 
notion of being handed over without a word, like a 
mere chattel, to a profession for which he had neither 
taste nor talent, and told his father bluntly he did not 
intend to be a lawyer. 

Then how do you intend to live, pray ? ” had 
been his father’s response to this ultimatum. I am 
neither going to send you to college nor keep you at 
home in idleness.” 

‘‘ I don’t ask you to, sir ; I mean to stand for the 
Kempthorne scholarship.” 

The Kempthorne, it must be explained, was a mu- 
sical scholarship at one of the London academies, 
founded by a predecessor of Doctor Redway for the 
benefit of the lads of Dronechester, and usually gained 
by a retiring cathedral chorister. Doctor Redway was 
one of the judges by virtue of his office. That his 
own son should think of competing appeared to him 
monstrous. He swore loudly that he would never 
permit it. ‘‘ No son of mine shall be a musician, by 
G — ! ” he shouted. A beggarly profession ! I only 
wish my own father had treated me as I am treating 
you ” 

The weeks went by. Father and son exchanged no 
word upon the subject that filled both minds. Per- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


23 


haps the old man persuaded himself that Roger 
had yielded, though sullenly ; at any rate the 
indentures with Messrs. Hiscock & Payne were 
being drawn up. Meanwhile the examination papers 
for the Kempthorne were sent in. One set was 
so far superior to the rest that the verdict of the judges 
was unanimous, though it yet remained to go through 
the tests in technique and sight-reading in presence 
of the examiners before the final decision. The chosen 
instrument was the violin, so Doctor Redway knew 
that the promising candidate was not one of his 
choristers. He was privately glad that he had forbid- 
den his son to compete: this lad’s papers were, he 
thought, far beyond anything Roger could do, and for 
his own credit’s sake he did not want him worsted. 

When several boys had gone through the required 
tests, some well, some falteringly, and it came to the 
turn of the competitor on whom all hopes were set, 
the old doctor looked up with some curiosity to see 
his own son, Roger, walk in with his head in the air 
and his fiddle in his hand. For an instant he was 
speechless, paralysed with rage; then just as the boy 
had tucked his violin under his chin and drew the bow 
across the strings, he made a sudden rush at him, and 
had not two of the other examiners thrown themselves 
in the way, there might have been an ugly scene. They 
tried to get the irascible old man to hear reason while 
young Redway stood still, leaning his shoulder against 
the desk, his instrument still in position, ready to go 
on when the tumult should subside. 

One of the judges tried to pacify him by compli- 
ments on the conspicuous ability his son had shown, 
but found he was only adding fuel to the flames ; an- 


24 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


other at length managed to get a hearing while he 
represented that though the contest was bound to go 
on, Doctor Redway’s son might decline the scholar- 
ship should it fall to him. Finally the angry man 
threw up his connection with the whole affair, and went 
out, violently slamming the door behind him. 

It might well have been that the lad's nerve would be 
too much shaken after such a scene to allow him to do 
himself justice, and the thing might go against him 
after all ; but young Redway's was not a nature easily 
■quelled; opposition spurred rather than daunted him. 
Never had he played in finer style than on that critical 
day : the scholarship was unquestionably his. 

That was the last time he saw his father for many 
a long year. He felt the utter uselessness of staying 
at home to be forbidden to accept what he had won. 
He crammed his few clothes and possessions into an 
old portmanteau, and with the trifle of money left him 
out of a niggardly allowance, went off to London as 
many a budding genius has done before him. 

Whether the old man, left alone in the wide house, 
missed the noise of slamming doors, quick footsteps, 
whistlings and shoutings up-stairs and down, or pre- 
ferred the silence, he never said. The boy took it very 
much to heart at first and was terribly homesick, and 
then forgot. He was but a boy, and had hardly yet 
outgrown the instinctive child-love for his father just 
because he was his father, which in unreflective natures 
persists quite irrespective of harsh usage; but pres- 
ently he grew absorbed with his new life, pleased with 
his independence, and the memory of home faded more 
and more. 

The three years of his scholarship passed like a 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


25 


dream; then came the day when he took away his 
fiddle, his books, and his testimonials, and stood alone 
to conquer his place in the world if he could. 

Here would have been the chance for the old-time 
patron ; but the old-time patron is an extinct species. 
Fortune seemed disposed to buffet the lad at the out- 
set, perhaps to test the value of the gifts she had so 
lavishly bestowed. Perhaps it was his own fault; he 
had not made himself a favourite with the authorities 
at the college : wilful, insubordinate, inclined to 
criticise those set over him, he found fewer helping 
hands held out to him than did many of his colleagues 
less gifted than himself. Young Redway will go his 
own way,” remarked one of the professors who had 
tried to advise him ; ‘‘ he must learn experience for 
himself.” 

His first engagement ended in a speedy fiasco, be- 
cause he had yet to learn the essential lesson of sub- 
ordination : needful more or less in every line of life, 
indispensable in an orchestra. The matter was pe- 
culiarly unfortunate, because the director he had of- 
fended happened to have it in his power to make it 
difficult for the young man to obtain any other engage- 
ment, and he used the power spitefully. Baffled again 
and again, Roger set his teeth and struggled on, re- 
solved that he would not turn his steps, nor even his 
thoughts, homeward. 

One night, in a fit of desperation, he pulled down his 
hat over his eyes, turned up the collar of his coat, and 
took his fiddle out into the streets. He was at the 
very end of his resources, and credit had given out. 
He had had no dinner that day, and supper he felt 
he could not forego. Even in London streets, where 


26 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


so many incongruous things may be heard, playing 
such as his soon drew a crowd. Many stayed their 
steps, held by the weird magic of some Hungarian 
dances. After all it is not alms,’’ he said to himself, 
as he pocketed the contributions of his patrons ; “ I 
give good value for their coppers.” 

Suddenly he felt a touch on his arm, and looked 
round to see an old comrade at the college — a success- 
ful man who had done credit to his education. 

Good heavens ! Redway, is it really you ? What 
are you about? ” 

‘‘ Oh, it is a joke — a wager, don’t you know — ” 
He laughed a little unsteadily. He was very tired and 
awfully hungry, and his words failed to carry convic- 
tion. 

‘‘ Oh, is it? Well, don’t stay fooling out here in the 
cold any longer. Come home with me ; my diggings 
are quite near here.” 

The light and warmth in Knowles’s snug bachelor 
quarters were almost too much for the weary hungry 
boy. He turned giddy and sat down suddenly, laying 
his head on his arms on the table. His host let him 
alone while he busied himself getting out the whisky 
and tumblers from a corner cupboard, but by and by 
when he had been warmed and fed, proceeded to ad- 
minister a sound lecture on the headstrong folly which 
had brought him to this pass, winding up with a 
promise to find him a berth on the morrow. 

What Graham Knowles promised he was in a posi- 
tion to perform. He had been born with a silver 
spoon in his mouth — or at least with a conductor’s 
baton in his hand. If not exactly as had been asserted 
of him, a born conductor, he was at least born a con- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


27 


ductor — a slightly different thing. For generations 
there had been bandmasters in the Knowles family, 
and Graham developed an aptitude at deciphering 
complicated scores, and a dexterity in wielding the 
baton that marked out his career from the first. 
Though but a few years older than Redway, he was 
already vice-conductor in a first-rate orchestra, and 
likely soon to succeed to the headship, so he had no 
difficulty in obtaining a post among the first violins 
for his less fortunate comrade. It was not long before 
Redway had made his way to the front desk, and as 
the two worked on together they became fast friends. 

Theirs was an instance of friendship founded on dis- 
similarity, not of tastes but of capacities, for one sup- 
plied what the other lacked. Graham Knowles had 
an encyclopedic knowledge of classical music as well 
as a quick recognition of what was being written and 
done to-day, of who was really coming to the front, 
and who had a merely ephemeral popularity ; a strong 
business faculty too, a gift for organisation, and un- 
erring judgment as to the capacities of those whom he 
employed, a wonderful Fair for the public taste, and 
better still a knack of guiding it : every quality, in 
short, that should go to the making of an ideal con- 
cert director — except one. And the one thing needful 
— the inward grasp, the mysterious quality of inter- 
pretation which makes one man’s rendering a revela- 
tion, while that of another is a mere echo — ^^this gift 
of the gods was Roger Redway’s. Knowles recog- 
nised it, and knew how to value it. Sometimes indeed 
a secret jealousy came up like a little cloud ; more 
often he rejoiced in his friend’s power, for he loved 
him. 


28 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


So the two prospered till the year when Knowles’s 
health failed. There had been a trying winter : fog, 
sleet, all the misery of London in a sloppy January, 
combined with overwork, and Graham, never very 
strong, had had cold upon cold. He might easily 
have devolved some of his work upon Redway, but 
the disagreeable suspicion that it would be done as 
well or better in his absence made him cling the more 
obstinately to it. When summer came the winter 
cough would not yield ; he grew thin and irritable, 
complaining more of the heat than he had of the cold, 
till at last when August brought a cessation of toil, 
he was persuaded to go to a specialist. Redway had 
been absent for a fortnight, taking a well-earned holi- 
day, and when he came back he found his friend in a 
mood of sullen silence and gloom. He bore with it 
a day or two, then after listening to an expression of 
cynical bitterness and dark hints of coming ruin, he 
broke through the fence of reserve with a direct ques- 
tion: 

Old man, what is the matter with you ? What’s 
up ? ” 

The game is up for me. I am done for.” 

Done for ? What do you mean ? ” 

I have to chuck up my appointment. I must leave 
town and lead a miserable valetudinarian existence in 
some warm climate — or die like a rat in a hole. It 
need not make any difference to you, though.” 

Redway leaned across — they were sitting each side 
of the fire ; it was a chilly September evening — and 
gripped the cold, clammy hand that hung down. His 
warm strong grasp seemed to put life into it. 

Well, go on ; tell me all about it. You have been 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


29 


to Douglas Powell, I suppose, as I have been trying 
to get you to do for months. What else did he say ? 

Oh, my lungs are all to pieces ; I am losing 
weight every day. I ought to get out of town before 
the winter. If I don’t I must wear a respirator — never 
be out after four — all manner of rot. Dodge, I can’t 
bear it ! It is too hateful — just as I was beginning to 
take hold and realise all we have talked of, all we 
planned.” 

Poor old chap ! I don’t believe it can be as bad as 
that, though. Give in for this one winter. Let the 
doctors have a turn, and you’ll pull round and be as 
fit as possible next year, see if you don’t.” 

What will be the good of that, when I have lost 
my place in the hurly-burly ? If you cease to pull one 
instant, another has got hold of your rope and shoved 
you aside. No, I’ll die pulling.” 

Die ! Nonsense ! You must give yourself a 
chance. You will get in again, never fear ; you have 
interest.” 

I believe if I once let go my work I shall die. I 
used to feel last winter as if the necessity of doing it 
was the only thing that kept me alive. I had sooner 
die at once and have done with it than creep about in 
a respirator on the sunny side of the way, dying by 
inches.” 

I don’t see,” said Redway, ‘‘ why you should not 
get work in some warm place or other. Surely there 
must be openings for musicians in some of those 
health resorts that people crowd to nowadays : the 
idlers who live in those places must needs want to be 
played to.” 

“ Oh, I daresay, if I cared to do it ; but after all. 


30 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


London is the world ; if you don’t make your mark 
there, you have not made it at all. No, I won’t be 
buried alive. I know I could have a post at Pineclifif 
if I chose ; my father was speaking of it yester- 
day.” 

Better a living dog than a dead lion. What is the 
work? ” 

Well, you know Pinecliff, which calls itself the 
Mentone of England, has musical ambitions beyond 
the average seaside place, and has built itself a concert 
hall in the style of a cucumber frame, specially adapted 
to the requirements of invalids and palms ; and now it 
appears that nothing short of a bandmaster from town 
will content them; the appointment has been offered 
to me. Fancy me bandmaster of the Pinecliff band ! 
I told my father I had not sunk so low as that yet. I 
should prefer a berth in the Brompton cemetery.” 

‘‘ You fool! Is it worse to be bandmaster at Pine- 
cliff than to fiddle for coppers in the streets? ” 

Don’t, Dodge ; you ought to forget that that ever 
happened.” 

Well, I don’t know. It had its uses — beyond the 
coppers, I mean.” 

He paused a minute, gnawing the ends of his mous- 
tache. Now look here : Write and say you have 
thought better of it; you will accept on your own con- 
ditions. You must have a free hand to engage or dis- 
miss whom you will — and make me your first violin.” 

‘‘ Dodge 1 You are not serious ? ” 

Never was more so in my life. We shall have our 
work cut out for us, no fear, but we will do it. Don’t 
you see what a chance it is to begin in England the 
very thing that Germany is famous for?” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


31 


'^Moonshine! The conditions are different. You 
know as well as I do the rubbish of which these local 
bands are made — tootling popular airs while the 
people read novels and chatter.^’ 

‘'We will change all that. We will create our band ; 
we will create our public. The material for both lies 
ready to your hand. There on the one side stands a 
crowd of idlers, only wanting an opportunity to spend 
their shillings, and on the other, dozens of first-rate 
fellows eager to fill every berth you can offer. You 
know you can get your pick of men in town.’' 

“ Aye, for town, no doubt. They won’t go down 
to a potty little place like Pinecliff.” 

“ Pinecliff is coming to the front. Besides, your 
name will stand you.” 

“ Perhaps, but not without money to back it. 
Where’s that to come from?” 

“ Out of the ratepayers’ pockets,” said Redway 
calmly. “ The good folk must understand that if they 
want to make their town attractive they must pay the 
price. Don’t you see what a pull that gives you? ” 

“ Upon my word, I begin to rather like the notion.” 

He smoked in silence for a minute, then turned to 
his friend : 

“ If I do this thing. Dodge, will you stand by me ? 
Are you prepared to throw away the position you have 
won here, on the chance of our making a good thing 
of this? If you will not go with me, then I will not 
go- 

And Roger answered, “ I will go.” 

That was full five years ago, and the task the two 
had set before them had been abundantly fulfilled. The 
band which used to entertain the visitors as they 


32 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


strolled on the pier or sat in the public gardens had 
been transformed into an orchestra of renown, the 
doings of which were chronicled in the musical papers, 
and the name of Knowles of Pinecliff had become 
known beyond his own country. To be enrolled in 
the Pinecliff band was the high ambition of many an 
aspirant. Many a first production took place in the 
little seaside town, and a new composer advertised with 
pride that his symphony or his suite had been per- 
formed there. The winter symphony concerts at- 
tracted crowds of music-lovers to the town, and the 
municipaJ authorities testified their sense of what 
Knowles had done for the place in very substantial 
manner. 

There had of course been ups and downs — difficul- 
ties with the old band, jealousies among the new; 
tussles for mastery with the town council, who not 
unnaturally occasionally put the interests of the rate- 
payers before the cause of Music. Yet while some- 
times the efforts of tlje two seemed hardly one pain- 
ful inch to gain,’" the tide of their success was flooding 
in, and now as they looked back on their five years’ 
labour, they saw spread out behind them all that they 
-had won. 

Alone neither could have accomplished it; together 
they had been irresistible. Redway’s sanguine courage 
had upheld his friend in moments of difficulty and de- 
pression ; but if his clearer eyes could see to the end, 
in the details of the way Knowles was his superior. 
With greater calmness of temper, and infinitely better 
business faculty, and a perception of the need of pro- 
ceeding by degrees, he succeeded where the other 
would have broken himself against obstacles, like a 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


33 


wave upon a rock. If Redway had been in command 
he would probably have quarrelled with the town 
council in a month, and emptied the Palm-house by 
forcing the music of his own choice upon unwilling 
and uncomprehending hearers. Knowles, used all his 
life to catering for that great foolish public that fancies 
its taste rules the market, understood that it must be 
lured and coaxed with snippets of Geishas and Shop- 
girls, tamed by Sullivan and Cellier, till it could be 
brought to sit at the feet of Wagner and Tchaikovsky ; 
that its judgment must be guided by well-written 
articles in the local paper, its vanity tickled by explana- 
tory programmes with leit-motifs inserted in the text, 
till it could be led as with a ring in its nose. 

It was slow work, but it was done, and an audience 
created of which any music director in Germany might 
have been proud; created too out of the very crowd 
who used to sit and chatter to the strains of the band, 
regarding it as a pleasant setting for the sound of their 
own voices, more cheerful than the beat of surges on 
the shore. - i ^ 3 

Meanwhile the sunshine, the sweet wholesome 
breath of the pines, the fresh sea breezes had done all 
that had been hoped for Knowles, and the strenuous 
work and absorbing interest had strengthened his grip 
on life which had begun to slacken. The cloaked fig- 
ure with the scythe who had tapped him on the shoul- 
der had gone his way for the present. 

Adversity had held the two friends close ; prosperity 
was perhaps loosening the bond a little. Helpful as 
the two natures were to each other, there were ele- 
ments of discord. Redway had the conceit of a self- 
confident temper, happy in the successful exercise of 


34 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


power, and seldom acknowledging defeat; Knowles, 
the sensitive jealousy of one aware of limitations he 
would not admit: jars were inevitable. And then the 
woman had come between. 


IV. 


Emily White was sitting listlessly on the window- 
seat in a very small flat at the top of a very high and 
hideous block of mansions/^ with her hair pushed 
off her face, wearing a shabby old frock. Life seemed 
just then to have come to a sudden pause, but soon 
she must get up and go on again, for within the next 
half-hour Rose Alba must emerge, well-dressed and 
smiling, ready to sing her regulation three songs at a 
large at home ’’ on the other side of the Park, for 
which she had been engaged. She wished she were 
not Rose Alba, but merely Emily White, free to go 
to a party or stay away as she felt inclined. 

The door opened and Ethel came in. She had type- 
writing work in a publisher's office, but had got away 
early in order to play her sister's accompaniments: 
Em hated strangers to play for her. 

“ What, haven't you begun to dress yet? You'll be 
late to a certainty ; you know what a time you always 
take, and your hair all out of wave too. You look 
seedy ; is anything the matter ? " 

‘‘Who wouldn't look seedy under the^.roof in this 
heat? Of course my head aches, and I have been push- 
ing back my hair. I must heat the wavers." 

She got up and let the paper she had been reading 
slide off her knee. 

“ Had you better go, do you think? You won't do 
yourself justice." 


35 


36 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Oh, Brat, what a foolish thing to say ! I have not 
climbed high enough yet to be able to afford myself 
airs and migraines. Of course I must go.'' 

Well, Colonel Armitage is sure to be there," said 
Ethel consolingly, as it was he who got you the en- 
gagement." 

I suppose he will. By the way, did you see he is 
going to marry that Hope-Langton girl? I always 
thought he would." 

‘'No! You don't mean — " 

But Em was gone, and Ethel picked up the paper, 
and saw on the sheet that was turned outwards the 
announcement with the usual flourishes that a mar- 
riage had been arranged between Colonel Armitage, 
late of the — th Hussars, and Miss Euphemia Hope- 
Langton, niece of Lord Kilburn. 

So this was it! No wonder Em had the stunned 
look of a person who has just fallen down-stairs. 
Among the many men who had paid court to the 
pretty little singer, this was the only one to whom, 
in her sister's opinion, she had ever given any real 
encouragement; the only one who could make her 
colour change, her look falter. Ethel recalled the 
flowers, the bonbons he had showered upon “ the little 
white rose," as he called her, the chance meetings, 
then the planned ones; the day on the river, the little 
dinner at Earl's Court — all quite proper, of course: 
she herself had always played third ; but she had won- 
dered sometimes lately how long that phase was going 
to last, how soon he would declare himself and take 
Em off unimpeded by the presence of a chaperon. Now 
she understood the position in a flash. They were not 
of his world; he had only been “amusing himself." 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


37 

There lay the sting. Em's pride must suffer: would 
her heart suffer too ? 

Ethel did not think her sister was a person of very 
much feeling ; still if she had any, it had been touched 
by this man of the world, twenty years older than her- 
self, whose cool assumptions and half-mocking tender- 
nesses had been so great a contrast to the homage of 
which she had wearied. And if he had indeed been 
in earnest, how such a marriage would have satisfied 
Em's ambition! for he belonged to the very inner 
circles of that society " on the fringe of which the 
doctor's daughters hung by virtue of the professional 
exercise of Rose Alba's talents. 

When the singer appeared presently, if the pink 
in her cheeks owed something to the artistic hare's- 
foot, her sister did not blame her. She was wearing 
a dead white gown with a good deal of chiffon about 
it, and a large white hat, and white cheeks were not 
to be risked. 

After all they were not late, and Colonel Armitage 
did not make his appearance till some time after they 
had arrived. Em was just going to begin her second 
song — My heart is like a singing bird," when they 
caught sight of him in close attendance upon a fash- 
ionable-looking woman, plain, and of what people call 
a suitable age. Ethel's fingers faltered for an instant 
over the accompaniment, but Em's clear voice rang 
out with an abandon in the joyous refrain which she 
rarely showed. 

How nice to be as young and happy as that little 
thing," remarked Miss Hope-Langton, putting up her 
pince-nez. 

Em wondered whether he intended to come and 


38 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


speak to her; she was careful to give him no oppor- 
tunity, and quite turned the head of the professional 
pianist who was her colleague. 

As she and her sister left the house, she became 
aware of rapid masculine footsteps overtaking them. 
She thought he had left when Miss Hope-Langton 
did. 

‘‘ Little White Rose, you were in charming voice 
this afternoon, do you know?” 

He laid hold of the portfolio of music she was carry- 
ing, but she did not yield it. 

“ Don't trouble, thanks ; we are getting into an 
omnibus almost directly.” 

Why, I thought you always walked. I was going 
to walk back with you.” 

It is too hot for walking, and I am tired.” 

** Poor little girl, you work too hard. When are 
you and your sister coming to Earl's Court with me 
again ? We must have another pleasant evening be- 
fore I go abroad. You know I have to go to the East 
in a few weeks.” 

So I hear. By the way, I don't think I have con- 
gratulated you yet,(have I ? On your engagement, I 
mean. Of course we have known about it a long time, 
though we only saw the formal announcement to- 
day.” 

Ah, Rose, I must tell you all about that some day. 
Civilised life is a complicated business for some of us, 
my child. Well, we can't go into it in the street, can 
we ? Look here, when shall wt have that little din- 
ner, eh ? ” 

I think we have too many engagements just now, 
thanks. Unless — will Miss Hope-Langton be of the 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


39 

party ? We should so much like to make her ac- 
quaintance.” 

An odd look came into his light eyes. ‘‘ Aren’t you 
rather mixing up things that don’t belong ? ” he said. 

No ; but I think you are. Ah, here is our omni- 
bus. Good-bye.” 

‘‘ Ethel,” she said to her sister later, '' I have 
changed my mind about going down to Pinecliff. I 
think it would be an excellent thing to do, and the 
change would do me all the good in the world. I 
shall write to Maud Milton and tell her I will come 
after all. I don’t suppose they will have made any 
other plan in the meantime.” 

No, I should not think they had ; you only wrote 
the day before yesterday. It is the very best thing 
you could do,” said Ethel with conviction. Then, 
after a pause, '' I wonder if you will see anything of 
Mr. Knowles.” 

Oh, I expect I shall. Plenty. At any rate I shall 
see the back of him and his waving arms if we go to 
the concerts. But perhaps we shan’t ; the Miltons 
are not a scrap musical.” 

She is taking it better than I expected,” Ethel 
confided to her pillow that night. How wise she is 
to go away for a bit. I should not be surprised if she 
married Graham Knowles after all ; and really she 
might do worse. I am certain he is desperately fond 
of her, and he is well off, and a good sort of man, I 
should think.” 


The room was silent, save for the rustle of a quick- 
turning leaf and an occasional sharp tap, but to the 
solitary occupant it was mazed with sound. Graham 
Knowles was going through the score of a new sym- 
phony, and as his eye followed the serried ranks of 
black dots on white paper, the inner ear, which is to 
the musician what the mind’s eye is to the painter, was 
listening to a rare complexity of chords. As the artist 
sees the harmony of line and colour on the yet blank 
canvas, or the sculptor sees his statue in the block of 
untouched marble, so to him the silence was vocal 
with blare of brass, clear song of clarinet and hautboy, 
wail of violin. 

It was a new thing of Grieg’s that had just been 
sent him over from Norway, by special favour of the 
publisher whom Knowles happened to know. It had 
not yet been heard in London, and Knowles had a 
great desire to bring it out at his winter season con- 
certs and get the start of rivals. It was newest of the 
new ; intricate in orchestration, mystic and elusive 
in meaning ; it needed that he should bend his whole 
attention to it not to miss the strangely interwoven 
threads of melody. But his mind was straying : a 
page or two went over in emptiness ; the eye alone 
took in the note, the inner voice was dumb. He pulled 
himself up and turned back again to the phrase of 
delicate beauty that had sent his fancy off on a quest 
40 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


41 


of something different from chords and progressions. 
It was no good ; that scrap of melody called up, by 
some subtle association, Rose Alba as he had seen 
her that morning on the pier. He left his desk and 
went over to the window. 

He had not known till then that she was in Pine- 
cliff, and he felt a little hurt that she should not have 
found means to let him know. But then to be sure 
it is not for a woman to make the first move, and per- 
haps she might have thought him remiss. How easily 
he had suffered himself to be thrust aside by Redway 
the other day ! Possibly she was annoyed with him. 
He would go to-morrow and call upon her, and try 
to recover the ground his jealous temper had lost him 
on that occasion. What a fool he had been to be so 
jealous, as though she were in the least likely to care 
for a fellow she hardly knew ! Besides, Roger's 
abrupt, overbearing manners were little likely, 
Knowles thought, to recommend him to so fine and 
delicate a creature. No, if she had for the moment 
seemed to favour Redway, it was but pique, because 
he himself, who had made her believe he loved her, 
had let his constitutional diffidence overwhelm him 
and thrust him back. 

After all why should he be so diffident ? was it be- 
cause he was plain ? Well, many a plain man has 
wed a fair woman before now — aye, and been loved 
by her too. As to looks, why there was nothing re- 
markable about his rival's that he could see — a good- 
looking enough fellow, as fellows go, that was all. 
And material advantages, as he reminded himself, 
were all on his own side : a good income, a good 
house, a certain prestige, while Redway — At this 


42 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


point a small black serpent stole to his ear and whis- 
pered that Roger’s prosperity — his very existence in 
this little world whereof he himself was king — de- 
pended on his will and pleasure ; he had it in his own 
hands to make or mar his friend’s chances. He tried 
to turn a deaf ear, but the suggestion had been made. 

That he should have to fight Roger for the coveted 
possession of this girl’s love seemed so unfair ; Roger, 
who, as he had just been assuring himself, had all 
the disadvantages, and yet possessed the one advan- 
tage that outweighed them all — that mysterious 
way with women ” that he himself could never learn. 
He had never wanted to till now. He had often 
watched with a half-contemptuous amusement the 
scrapes his friend got in and out of with such a light 
heart. He himself had been singularly indifferent to 
women, but Roger’s likings came so easily! surely to 
him it was just Emmie White or another. It would 
be all the same. 

Then the fingers of his right hand stole up his other 
wrist and felt for something under the shirt cuff. Yes, 
he had a positive pledge of her favour; it was not for 
him to be distrustful. She had scorned his flowers, 
it was true, yet at that very moment he had been wear- 
ing her token secretly upon his arm. He had never 
taken it off since the day that she had laughingly put 
it there; he never would. He pushed up his cuff 
and let it slip down over his wrist: a little slender 
Indian bangle with a crescent and star hanging to it. 
He could see the slim white fingers that pushed it with 
difficulty over his hand, and remembering, he put his 
lips against it. It had been jestingly done, it was 
true, yet surely she must have meant it for a pledge. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


43 


She had never seen Roger Redway then. Could she 
be fickle? Nay, but did not women always seek to 
spur the favoured lover by pretending to encourage 
another? He must try to atone for his backwardness, 
must win his way with her by studying her tastes, 
humouring her whims, getting her the hearing she 
craved. So he mused, poor fool — like generals who 
win their battles on paper. 

He went back to his desk, closing his ears resolutely 
against the haunting tones of Rose Alba's voice that 
strove to come between him and the complication of 
chords, progressions, modulations before him. It was 
a strange and intensely original composition, and con- 
tinually the effect eluded him. Suddenly he caught 
himself wishing that Redway would come in, longing 
for his illuminating insight to make clear the obscuri- 
ties. He had got into a fog; he was not sure after 
all that he liked the thing, not even sure that he quite 
understood it. He wanted to consult Dodge: they 
always went through new productions together, and 
Knowles felt helpless without him. He had his doubts 
about this; he questioned whether his orchestra, a 
small one though so perfect, was strong enough in 
wind. He should have to hire extra men from town 
if they gave it; or would Redway think an adapta- 
tion feasible? And then the audience: was his public 
educated up to it yet, or rather, could they be made to 
think they were? What would Dodge say about it? 
He had an enthusiasm for Grieg and a sanguine faith 
in the possibility of leading the public in the way that 
it should go. His own opinion wanted fortifying, and 
for a moment he thought he would go and look up 
his old friend. But no; though there had been no 


44 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


overt quarrel between them, yet ever since the night 
of Rose Alba’s first appearance in Pinecliff they had 
stood in mute antagonism to each other, and while 
that lasted Knowles felt that he could not seek his help 
or take counsel with him as of old. He must trust 
to his own judgment. He turned back to the First 
Movement, making pencil notes upon the margin. 

Presently he heard the familiar quick decided step 
upon the stairs. He raised his head as the door opened 
and Redway came in. For a moment no greeting 
passed. The newcomer stood still at the other end of 
the table, one hand resting upon it. 

“ I have something to tell you,” he said. 

Knowles looked full in his face. '' Then you need 
not,” he answered, and a curious white look came 
about the corners of his mouth. He was not quick 
of perception nor versed in love matters, but he needed 
to be neither to read the love-light in Roger’s hand- 
some eyes or interpret the triumph veiled in a new 
shyness that sat oddly on his wonted self-confidence. 

‘‘What do you mean? You cannot have heard; I 
only spoke to her to-day. I came to tell you directly ; 
I did not want you to hear it from any one but me.” 

It had been in his heart to say “ because we have 
been friends,” but something stopped the words. 
There was no friendship in the cold eyes that were 
staring at him. 

He waited. The other did not speak, but looked 
down again at the score, and mechanically turned a 
page or two. 

“ Graham, won’t you say something to me? Don’t 
you understand? She — Miss White has promised to 
marry me.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


45 


Knowles looked up a moment from the book and 
straight into his eyes. '' Traitor/' he said, not loud, 
but with slow emphasis. 

Redway drew nearer. '' Do you think I am going 
to take such a word as that from you? By Heaven, 
you shall either justify it or take it back. Are you 
mad? " 

Knowles had resolved that he would say no more, 
but the insistence of his antagonist forced from him — 
I thought you were my friend. I brought her here; 
I introduced you to her, and you go about to rob me 
of the only woman I ever cared for." 

But this is sheer raving. Do you suppose because 
you happened to know her first, that gave you an ex- 
clusive right to her affection? Granted you had the 
Start of me, but what then? We both admired her — 
who could help it? She liked me best. You must ad- 
mit she was disinterested." 

Disinterested ! The false-hearted flirt ! She was 
mine till you stole her from me." 

A chill seized on the bold confidence of the pre- 
ferred lover. Was there indeed something that he 
had not known? 

'' Do you mean to say," he asked, sitting down, 
that you were ever engaged to her? If so, in 
Heaven's name why didn't you tell me?" 

'‘Engaged? No, I suppose not in words: it had 
not gone so far as that, but I believed she understood 
what I felt for her. I had made it as plain as I dared 
on so short an acquaintance, and I thought — I was 
convinced that she — she was not averse. When she 
agreed to come down and sing for me, there was an 
implication — Oh, I don't know! One cannot put 


46 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


these things into words. I thought it only needed 
time. Surely you must have seen how it was.^' 

I saw you were attracted by her of course, but so 
was every man in the room. Honestly, I never did 
think it was you she favoured.’’ 

She did, she did ! But you came between with 
your infernal self-conceit, and turned her head.” 

Upon my soul, Graham, I believe you have 
brooded over this till you don’t know your own fan- 
cies from what really happened. You know you have 
never — ” 

The other interrupted by stretching out his wrist 
upon which the little bangle had slipped down into 
sight. Did you ever see that before ? ” he asked. 

Roger’s face changed a little. '' Of course I have,” 
he answered ; I noticed that you wore it weeks 
back. It comes down under your cuff often when you 
are conducting. The fellows were joking about it 
last week. I had a good mind to ask you where on 
earth you got it, and why you were so deuced osten- 
tatious with it, but you are never very communica- 
tive about your own affairs, and I hate prying. What 
is it to me ? ” 

Have you no curiosity to know who put it 
there ? ” 

Roger waited in silence. 

She did — Emily White. Before ever she saw 
you.” 

It was Redway’s turn to look pale and startled now. 
He hardly knew how to believe the assertion. He was 
not naturally of a jealous temper, for jealousy implies 
diffidence. He thought Emmie cold and difficult to 
win, and valued her favour all the more on that ac- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


47 


count ; this piece of circumstantial evidence stag- 
gered him and set all his conception of her awry. Till 
now he had been filled with an impatient contempt 
for a man who failed to win the woman he desired, 
and then whined because she was taken from him. 
No man pities another in such a case, and not even 
ruth for the old friendship kept him from feeling 
scorn. Now a horrible doubt lest he had himself been 
fooled came over him, and made him sick and cold. 
He walked to the window and battled with the sus- 
picion a minute ; then he turned round. 

Graham,’’ he said, you must admit that the fault 
has been your own. If you had said to me, ‘ Dodge, 
I am going to bring down the girl I love and mean 
to win, and I want you to make friends with her for 
my sake,’ I should never have dreamed of coming be- 
tween. Perhaps I should never even have loved her. 
I don’t know whether that is possible, but at any rate 
I would not have given myself a chance to get so 
deep in. I would have gone away — mastered it some- 
how. But she is mine now, and by Heaven ! no man 
shall take her from me.” 

It was honestly spoken, but it did not mend the 
breach. It is cold comfort to be told that your mis- 
fortune is of your own making. 

Well,” said Knowles bitterly, I wish you joy 
of her. But you are no friend of mine from hence- 
forth. If you condone her treachery, you make your- 
self a party to it.” 

I have yet to be convinced that that has been 
treachery on her part. I think you are deceiving your- 
self.” 


48 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Do you suppose/’ cried the other angrily, '' that 
I bought that trinket and put it on my own arm ? ” 

“ I don’t know what I think yet. I shall try to think 
nothing till I hear what she says.” 

He went to the door, but stood a moment with the 
handle in his hand. 

You and I have stood in together through rough 
weather and smooth. Gray ; I don’t like to think it 
is all up between us.” 

There was no response. The stiff figure remained 
standing with a cold question in his eyes as though 
he would ask — Now all is said, why don’t you go ? ” 
And he went. 

As he slammed the front door he seemed to him- 
self to be shutting off a good part of his life. It re- 
called to his mind that day, more than ten years ago, 
when he had shut the door of his father’s house be- 
hind him. He had won, as he told himself he always 
did, that on which his heart was set, but he realised 
that he had had to pay a heavy price for it. Seven 
years’ friendship for the love of five weeks — but he 
did not question whether it were worth it. If a man 
must leave father and mother, to cleave to the woman 
he has chosen, friends can hardly expect to be weighed 
in the balance. Nevertheless he went his way with a 
sore spot in the midst of his new joy. 

What if either had known of the chance — a letter 
misdirected, an invitation unanswered — which had 
thrown success into the hand of the one and disap- 
pointment into the hand of the other ? Was it blind 
fate ? 

Redway resolved that the revelations which had 
been forced upon him should sow no suspicion be- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


49 


tween him and Emmie : he would trust her entirely. 
He was not sure that he would even ask any expla- 
nation from her ; he fancied he could explain it all to 
his own satisfaction. Surely a man so shy with 
women, so unused to their ways as was Knowles, 
might build hopes on a very insecure foundation ; 
might completely deceive himself as to the value and 
significance of little things. He had seen them to- 
gether, and had never observed the smallest sign of 
an understanding between them, and Emmie's way of 
speaking of the Conductor rather implied that she 
held him cheap. Yet the tangible evidence of the 
bangle was awkward, and after an uneasy, sleepless 
night, he resolved to have it out with her ; he would 
know no peace else. 

It was the last day of her visit to Pinecliff. Next 
day she was to return to town to make preparations 
for the wedding, which he hoped might take place in 
a month — for he was an impatient lover. This last 
day was to be devoted to him ; he was to call for her 
and take her to a matinee at the theatre. During 
these courting days he had been perfectly reckless in 
his demand for leave of absence, and as both he and 
his chief considered the summer season of slight im- 
portance, it had been granted without demur, and his 
work devolved on the next man. That now it would 
be all scored up against him never occurred to him ; 
his own temper was too generous to understand any 
such proceeding. 

He waited a minute or two in the drawing-room at 
the Miltons’ house alone ; the cousins were in the secret, 
and had all gone out that he might have his fiancee 
to himself. He roamed restlessly about the room, feel- 


50 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


ing it very hard that this first meeting as declared 
lovers should be overclouded by explanations ; now 
resolving after all to hold his tongue, now realizing 
that he could never be easy while the idea of Graham 
Knowles and his claims stood between them like an 
unlaid spectre. The ring he had brought wherewith 
to seal his betrothal was in his waistcoat pocket: he 
had the fancy he would not put it on her finger till all 
was clear. 

At last she came. He went to meet her and took 
her hand. Since they were alone she was surprised 
that he offered no further demonstration, though it 
was true yesterday she told him she hated being 
handled, and her dainty rufilings of lace and chiffon 
and her big picture hat would not lend themselves 
well to embraces. She looked in his face : it was 
graver than she had ever seen it. 

Love,’’ he said, should you mind giving up the 
theatre this afternoon, and coming for a walk with me 
instead? I want particularly to speak to you, and I 
can’t there.” 

'' But you could here, and we need not start for full 
five minutes yet. Have you got the tickets?” 

She looked at herself in the big mirror that filled 
one corner of the room, and he could read in her eyes 
that she thought so exquisite a get-up would be 
wasted upon one man. 

Yes, I have the tickets. Well, as you will. I sup- 
pose what I have to say may be said shortly.” He 
paused a minute, biting his moustache. He seemed 
to find a difficulty in beginning. As a rule diffidence 
was not in him, but either the newness of his engage- 
ment, or something in the unconcernedness and 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


51 


aplomb of the little feathery-looking woman daunted 
him. At last he managed to bring it out with some 
abruptness. 

I want to know/’ he said, “ whether you ever gave 
Knowles a bracelet of yours.” 

'' And pray what business is it of yours if I did? ” 

What business is it of mine ! ” he repeated. Why, 
you are mine ; everything that you do or are concerns 
me.” 

She laughed a little clear hard laugh. ‘‘ It strikes 
me,” she said, ‘‘ that you are taking a great deal too 
much for granted. Pray how would you like it if I 
were to demand full confession about every woman 
you ever made love to, eh ? To my mind there is 
something peculiarly despicable about a jealous man. 
So long as I give you no cause of complaint now we 
are engaged, you have no earthly concern with any- 
thing that happened before. Now let us start.” 

She moved to the glass and began to put on her veil, 
but he caught her by the wrist. 

Stay,” he said. I mean to have an answer.” 

She snatched her hand away. So you would try 
to be masterful already! Let go my arm; you hurt 
me. 

Yet the strong will imposed itself upon her despite 
her resistance, and she found herself adding, almost 
without her own volition : It was nothing after all — 
a mere jest. It was a rubbishing trinket from Con- 
stantinople at Olympia or one of those places; I 
was fooling with my dog, putting it on his paws or 
some nonsense, and Graham Knowles asked for it. 
I gave it him in joke ; he had no right whatever 


52 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


to fasten any serious meaning on it. I never was en- 
gaged to him.'' 

Roger was but half content, though this was just 
the sort of explanation he had hoped for. “ I wish," 
he said, that you had never made him think you 
liked him. He is a serious sort of fellow, and takes 
things to heart. You ought to have known what he 
would fancy." 

These ‘‘ oughts " affronted Em ; she drew herself 
away from him. 

'' I really cannot understand this scene that you are 
making. It seems to me you are upbraiding me for 
not accepting somebody else. Your ideas certainly 
have the charm of novelty. The remedy is very sim- 
ple. If you think your friend was first in the field 
and has the prior claim you can easily withdraw 
yours." 

He turned round. Em, Em! What are you say- 
ing? ” 

I am suggesting that we put an end to a very 
ridiculous position." 

^‘You don't understand. Can't you see that what 
upsets me is that you should have come down here, 
half engaged to him, and I was kept in the dark? You 
beguiled me into playing traitor to my friend." 

'' Beguiled you I Take care what you are saying." 

I did not need much beguiling? No, that is true. 
But if I had known — " 

‘‘ Well, now you do know, you can play the heroic 
self-sacrificing lover if it pleases you — ‘ Take her ! 
She is yours I ' — that is, so far as your own part of the 
bargain is concerned. I need not say I have no notion 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


53 

of being taken whatever. But if you want to be off 
with me no one is keeping you.'' 

He sprang forward and caught her in his arms. 

As if I could — now ! Heart of my heart, do you 
think Graham or any man alive shall have you now ? " 

Then I really don't see what all this fuss was 
about." 

‘‘Ah, can't you understand? You are mine^ — you 
are me: that you should deal treacherously with my 
friend is as if I had done it myself, or worse. Forgive 
me, my darling, if I seemed harsh. How can I bear 
that you should sully your whiteness — But you did 
it innocently ; you did not understand what men think 
of these things." 

He was kissing her passionately. She drew herself 
out of his arms. 

There, that will do. We shall be horribly late. 
You are so odd. I really cannot make out what you 
do want. It seems to me that if I were to ask for that 
wretched trinket back, I should only be admitting 
that it meant what it never did mean." 

Of course, of course ! I want nothing but your 
assurance that you never loved him — never let him 
kiss you." 

'' Kiss me ! " She made a moue of disgust. I 
should think not indeed. How could you make such 
an insulting suggestion ? You know I hate demon- 
strations of any kind. I only wish you would realise 
how much better I like you when you are not in these 
excited moods. I can't bear being mauled and 
mussed. Is my hat straight ? " — as she crossed the 
room to look in the glass and draw the folds of her 
veil becomingly under her chin. I hope to good- 


54 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


ness” she added, that you are not going to develop 
a Bluebeard kind of temper, for it is a thing I could 
not possibly put up with. If you set your heart on 
marrying a woman no other man had ever even 
wished for, you should have looked for a plainer one.^' 
As he sat beside her in the dress-circle, and watched 
the laughable fooling of ‘‘ My Friend the Prince ’’ 
with grave, unseeing eyes, he was trying to take what 
comfort he could out of Emmie’s coldness and hard- 
ness. If he could win so little tenderness from her, 
still less could any other man. If she had flirted it 
had not been for love, but for vanity. ‘‘ Perhaps, 
after all,” he said to himself, ''the Turks have a truer 
view of life than we, and women have not any souls. 
Well, we must take them as we find them, for we can- 
not do without them.” 


VI. 


Roger Redway mounted the steps of the Conduc- 
tor's estrade and looked upon the little army 
assembled to do his bidding, every eye fixed on him, 
every bow suspended, waiting his signal. An instant 
he paused, for an outbreak of applause greeted his 
appearance. Did his vanity deceive him, or did his 
ear detect something a little warmer, a little more 
spontaneous than the customary civility ? Was there 
not a note of genuine pleasure when it was perceived 
who was to conduct ? At any rate he fancied so, and 
there was a gratified smile on his lips as he turned to 
the crowded house and bowed his thanks. Then he 
lifted his baton and a momentary silence fell till the 
grand rush of the finest of Liszt's Rhapsodies burst 
forth. 

It was one of his good moments. There was noth- 
ing he loved better than playing on this great complex 
human instrument ; feeling all those forty individual 
wills moved like one by his will, and through them a 
power, mysterious, not to be defined, exercised over 
the crowd who sat listening, obedient, swayed as he 
would to mirth or melancholy, solemnity or triumph. 
He found in it the joy that one man finds in holding 
rudder and rope, and riding safe through a squall, 
making the rough waves his servants ; or another in 
subduing with light hand on the curb every motion 
of a high-mettled horse ; or yet another in manoeu- 
vring an army — in a word, the joy of mastery. Not 


55 


56 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


even his violin, the more intimate expression of his 
thought, could give him this special and peculiar de- 
light. 

Lately it had but seldom fallen to his lot: Knowles 
had grown more chary of suffering his friend to stand 
in his place, and had rarely failed in his own office ; 
but on this occasion he had been called to town the 
day before and had gone off in a hurry, leaving it 
doubtful whether he would be back in time for the 
Symphony Concert. The hour had arrived, and Red- 
way had been punctual in beginning. It was rather a 
critical occasion, for the Rhapsody had gone so un- 
satisfactorily at rehearsal that there had been talk of 
changing it at the last mom.ent ; but Knowles had 
gone off so suddenly, there had been no time to de- 
cide what should be done. Redway decided for him- 
self : he disliked changing the programme, and he 
was not given to flinching from difficulties. More- 
over he had his own idea of the origin of the one 
which had marred the Rhapsody, and he thought it 
would go right to-day. He felt in every fibre of him 
the peculiar intricate rhythm of the thing, and he 
knew in himself the power to impose his reading of it 
on the men under his baton. 

He spurred, he urged, he held them ; the measure 
rose and fell like the measure of the waves, unequal 
yet with ever-recurring fall. At the end the applause 
broke out with vehemence, but he read his success 
still more legibly on the faces of the players, which 
reflected the joy of a work achieved. Then he saw 
Graham Knowles standing just within the little door 
at the back of the orchestra. 

He just bowed his acknowledgments, paying no 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


5 )^ 

heed to the insistent demand for an encore, and de- 
scended from the desk, silently handing the baton 
to his chief. 

“ Why did you not wait, or take the Suite first? 
You knew I was coming back.'^ 

It seemed best to take the programme as it stood. 
As you did not arrive this morning I could not tell 
how long you might be kept.'’ 

He fetched his fiddle from the inner room and took 
his place, with something of the feeling a prime min- 
ister might have, who had been king for a day. 

As Knowles took his way to the town by one of 
the winding paths that thread the steep side of the 
gardens, one above another, a scrap of conversation 
floated up to him through a screen of feathery sumach, 
from two of the performers who had paused for an in- 
stant just below. The speaker was the first double- 
bass, an Italian who had played under the batons of 
Richter and Mottl, and whose presence in the orches- 
tra was an honour owed to the fact that ill health con- 
demned him to Pinecliff. Knowles had an immense 
respect for his opinion and often consulted him. His 
companion was also a leading man. The first words 
were lost^ but half a sentence came — ‘‘ a wonderful 
piece of luck. If he had caught his train nothing 
could have saved us from coming to grief with that 
Rhapsody ; he had not grasped it somehow.” 

Aye. And Dodge is a born conductor.” 

'' Still the boss is very good — admirable in some 
ways.” 

Oh, yes, I don't deny it. He has an excellent 
beat — if you watch it. There is no need to watch Red- 
way : you feel him in the very marrow of your bones.” 


58 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Then they went on. 

A week later, at the end of rehearsal, Knowles spoke 
to the leader. Redway, I wish to speak to you in 
my private room.’^ 

Very sorry — I am afraid I can’t possibly stop now ; 
I’ve a lesson at twelve thirty and it is now twenty to 
one. I’ll come up to your rooms later — this evening 
if I can’t manage it before.” 

Knowles drew his brows together and spoke in an 
authoritative tone : ‘‘ I am afraid I must insist. The 
matter is one of importance. For your own sake you 
will regret it if you decline to hear what I have to 
say.” 

Redway shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘ Infant,” he said 
to a small white-faced lad who played among the 
second violins, and was now lingering with some 
curiosity on the pretext of collecting the music, scent- 
ing a row between the two heads — just take a note 
for me to Brunswick Buildings, there’s a good chap. 
I know you are always ready to oblige.” 

He scribbled a hasty line of apology, and followed 
Knowles into the little office at the back of the build- 
ings where the Director transacted most of the busi- 
ness, engaged and dismissed subordinates, and served 
out reprimands as occasion might require. Redway 
was as much at home there as himself, could have 
found his way blindfold through the orderly confusion 
of the bureau, and knew exactly where every man and 
his qualifications were pigeon-holed together with his 
possible substitute in case of need. He had not been 
there for long — not since the coolness with Knowles 
had arisen ; but it was a new idea to find himself sum- 
moned as a delinquent. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


59 


He came in not at all with the air of one, and since 
Knowles was in possession of the only chair in the 
room, seated himself upon the window-sill, leaning 
half out to snatch at some sprays of crimson rambler 
that were swaying in the breeze just out of reach. 
Knowles had begun opening some letters while he 
waited, and he finished reading them before he spoke. 

You must be aware. Redway,'' he said at last, look- 
ing up from the sheaf of letters in his hand — you 
must be aware that for some time past your attend- 
ance, especially at rehearsal, has been most irregular. 
In view of this, with the winter season coming on, 
the council have resolved on making new arrange- 
ments." He paused, jotting down a few pencil notes 
on the margin of one of the letters. 

What do you mean ? " said Redway. Of course 
the winter season is another affair altogether, and I 
shall not shirk; but you and I have never thought 
much of the cheap-tripper patrons of August." 

‘'You have been allowed — or have taken — a great 
deal more liberty than is usual in a subordinate, but 
you will find matters on a different footing. in the 
future." 

“ Look here, Knowles, I don't understand this tone 
from you, and I'm not going to put up with it. You 
know very well that while Miss White was down here 
I naturally looked for a bit more leisure. She is gone 
back now, and you will not be asked to grant leave 
again until I demand a fortnight for the wedding. I 
make no apology and there's an end of the matter." 

“An end? You will find it is only the beginning. 
On consideration of your unreliableness and my un- 
certain health in winter, the council have resolved that 


6o 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


the informal devolving of my work on you shall cease. 
It is not desirable that the Leader should also be Vice- 
Conductor ; so the latter is to be made into a separate 
appointment, and has been promised to Dacre.'' 

Redway started up. ‘‘ Do you think I am going to 
play under the baton of that young prig? Not if I 
know it ! 

‘‘ Very well. If you do not choose to submit your- 
self you have your remedy.'' 

And one I shall certainly take." 

You can do as you choose. I am simply the 
mouthpiece of the council." 

‘‘ Talk of the council indeed ! Do you think I don't 
know whose doing this is ? And see through it too." 

'' It is nothing to me what you think. I am here to 
carry out the wishes of my employers. This is not a 
private concern." He rose and locked the bureau. 
‘'You had better take a day or two to consider," he 
said. 

Redway laughed and went. He saw clearly the 
forces that had been at work. Meddlesome and an- 
noying as members of the council had shown them- 
selves on various occasions, he understood the work- 
ings of things too well to ascribe this new move to 
them ; but it was bitter to him to believe that the man 
he had called friend, and for whose sake he had made 
the sacrifice of better chances than any he was likely 
to get now, was capable of thus going behind him to 
cut the ground from under his feet. Fate had seldom 
dealt him such a back-handed blow as this, and he was 
not sure that he was strong enough to defy all its con- 
sequences. 

Defy it as far as in him lay, he certainlv would. 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


6i 


He had his pupils, his prestige, to fall back upon; 
but it was one thing to rely on that while he had his 
fixed salary as a point d'appui, quite another to trust 
to it alone. His private work had been an extra which 
had emboldened him to ask Emmie White to share 
his fortunes; but now dare he venture himself — and 
her — on the sea of chance, trusting to his luck? He 
might make a good deal ; but then he might fail, with 
Knowles working against him, as he could not doubt 
he would. What would Em think? Doubt on that 
head chilled him. There was a vein of practical 
worldly wisdom in her. Would she see in this shrewd 
stroke of fate a reason to postpone their marriage? — 
perhaps to give him up? What a hideous triumph 
for his enemy if she should ! But submission was not 
to be thought of. : 

It galled him to know that a few years ago any con- 
cession would have been made sooner than that he 
should be lost to the Pinecliff band ; he was indis- 
pensable. Now more than one of the men he had 
helped to train and form were capable of filling his 
shoes not discreditably, though, he might be pardoned 
for believing, less ably. 

The next thing was to inform Emmie of the change 
in his fortunes. He must do it face to face ; he could 
not write it. Next morning he sent in his resignation 
in form, coupled with a peremptory demand for leave 
for the day on business, and put himself in the train 
before it could be either granted or refused. 

He had sent no word of his coming, so he was not 
surprised to be informed by the hall porter that the 
young ladies were both out and would probably not 
return for an hour or two — ^he could not say exactly. 


62 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


So the impatient lover walked up and down the pave- 
ment in front of the unlovely block of buildings known 
as Bessborough Mansions, that he might catch the 
first glimpse of a returning figure. As he walked he 
revolved in his mind how best to tell her : now fancy- 
ing himself taking her in his arms and asking whether 
she would stick to him whatever happened, now re- 
solved on standing proudly before her and assuring 
her that she should be perfectly free. 

A policeman who was on duty at the corner of the 
main thoroughfare became quite suspicious as an 
hour and a quarter went by, and excited to a pitch of 
lively interest by the time Ethel appeared at the oppo- 
site corner and ran to meet the stranger. He was a 
young man, new to the Force, and had not yet 
brought to perfection the impassive stolidity of his 
kind. He even pictured to himself, as an agreeable 
break in the monotony of daily duty, that that excited- 
looking young man might have a revolver secreted 
about him, or might possibly contemplate pitching 
the young woman out of one of the top windows of 
the flat into which they had just disappeared. He was 
really quite sorry to be relieved, and drew the atten- 
tion of his successor to the flat in question as a place 
where something might be expected to happen 
shortly. 

Ethel was generally the first to get home ; her office 
hours were regular and not very long, whereas Em’s 
engagements sometimes lasted quite late. 

Why, Roger ! ” she cried at sight of him, this 
will be a surprise for Em. Why didn’t you wire that 
you were coming ? We could have left orders to let 


^ THE HARP OF LIFE. 63 

you in. Have you been waiting very long, you poor 
thing ? you look awfully seedy.’’ 

She ran up the long flights of stairs in front of him, 
for Bessborough Mansions did not boast a lift, and 
unlocked the door of their small sky-parlour. 

Poor boy,” she said, you must be tired and 
hungry. You shall have something to eat directly. 
We generally have a sort of tea-dinner when we get 
in if we aren’t going out anywhere, and I get it my- 
self, for we haven’t any servant except for an hour or 
two in the morning. We have most of our meals out, 
you know.” 

She was bustling about while she talked, in and out 
of the neighbouring pantry, where a Beatrice stove 
betrayed its presence by an unmistakable odour. She 
would not accept the aid he offered, so he sat down 
by the window and looked round the untidy little 
apartment, trying to fancy what the life of the 
bachelor woman ” was like, and wondering whether 
Em would after all be relinquishing much. It did not 
look very luxurious, though comfortable in a free and 
easy way : there were plenty of hammock chairs, and 
a vague odour of cigarettes hung about them, an 
odour which made him uneasy till he recollected that 
the girls smoked themselves — at least his future sis- 
ter-in-law did. Emmie seldom indulged ; it made her 
sick. 

Piles of very untidy songs on the top of the cottage 
piano v/ere the only distinct trace of his sweetheart, 
except his own photo stuck over the mantelpiece in 
a nickel frame. The room after all did not succeed in 
looking very mannish : there were plenty of the little 
rubbishing knick-knacks in which the feminine heart 


64 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


delights, only no flowers but a few half-dead ones. 
These working women had not the leisure to keep 
their vases filled. 

At last came Emmie, rather tired and very hot, and 
expressing so little joy at his unlooked-for arrival that 
his heart sank down, down. 

There was nothing specially confidential about the 
communication he had come to make ; there was no 
reason why he should not have mentioned his changed 
prospects before Ethel, who took a most sisterly in- 
terest in the engagement ; but he could not, so she, 
noticing how poor an appetite he brought to the chops 
and coffee she had prepared, rose as soon as the meal 
was over, and said she should go and spend the eve- 
ning with a friend and leave them to themselves. 

After all he adopted neither of the two styles he 
had been rehearsing to himself all the afternoon, but 
told his story in bald jerky sentences, as he leaned 
against the window-frame, looking away from the lis- 
tening figure swaying to and fro in the rocking-chair, 
and watching with curious intentness the lamps of a 
hansom, like two red eyes of some monster, crawling 
up the hill far below between the crowded roofs. He 
simply dared not look at Em, he was so horribly 
afraid she would be cruel to him, and he should have 
to go back beaten for the first time in his life ; and 
he felt as if he could not bear it. He had stood up 
manfully against every buffet of fate till now, but Em 
made a coward of him. 

He ended his tale. Em leaned forward and laid her 
hand lightly on his coat sleeve. What a detestable 
pig Knowles is ! Never mind. Dodge, we'll best 

him.^^ 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


65 


He laughed out, the relief was so great. '' Em, Em ! 
You are a brick. I didn't think you'd have taken it 
like this ; I thought — I was afraid — There, I won't 
remember about it now." 

He caught her in his arms and held her close. She 
lent him a cool cheek for a moment and then drew 
away. 

Now let's discuss things reasonably. There is no 
occasion to be emotional about it. I certainly don't 
mean to allow myself to be bullied by Graham 
Knowles, and I wonder you should. I thought you 
had more spirit." 

‘‘ The dread of losing you made a coward of me, 
but with you I can face the world. No, don't draw 
away — I can talk things over much better holding 
you." 

‘‘ Nonsense! You will do very well opposite. Well, 
what was I saying? Oh, yes, you know I have a little 
money of my own; not very much, still it will keep 
the wolf from the door, and if you and I both put our 
shoulders to the wheel — " 

My darling 1 I don't mean that you shall work." 

“ Perhaps not, but I mean it ; in fact I have never 
meant anything else. Your notions, my dear, are by 
no means up to date. I have my profession as well as 
you, and I don't see why I should relinquish it when 
I marry any more than you should yours." 

I hate the idea of letting you exert yourself. A 
man should be able to keep his wife, or he has no 
business to have one." 

Very well," said Emmie, have it your own way, 
and play into Mr. Knowles's hands by putting off our 
marriage — for a year, shall we say, or two? " 


66 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


'' Em ! he cried, you have got me at a disad- 
vantage/’ 

I may as well tell you candidly,” said she, that I 
never had the smallest intention of giving up my sing- 
ing.” 

'' I should not have minded your singing at con- 
certs if you liked; it is your having to grind at the 
drudgery of lessons that I hate.” 

But you are in a cleft stick, you see ; so you had 
better give in with a good grace and be thankful.” 

His thankfulness would fain have expressed itself 
with ardour, but he held himself in bounds and only 
carried her hand to his lips. 

Well,” he said, if needs must, I can get you 
plenty of pupils in Pinecliff.” 

She made a face. To my mind the bright side of 
the disaster is that it sets you free from Pinecliff. Why 
stay? Why not come up to town and make a fresh 
start? I believe I am beginning to catch on at last, 
and it seems really a pity to drop it.” 

He shook his head. I have lost too much time 
there already. I could not slip into my place where I 
dropped out of it five years ago ; I should have to go 
to the end of the queue again. You know I am nearly 
thirty. The work I have been doing will have told 
down there; but here, who knows me? For one pupil 
I might get in town, I can command ten there. There 
I stand first ; here I should be one of a crowd.” 

She gave up the idea with reluctance. She loved 
London, and her own special ambition would be 
further off fulfilment. However there was reason in 
what he said, and Em was an eminently reasonable 
little person. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


67 


After all/" she said, the business has its compen- 
sations. You will be a free man and your own master, 
and if you get your time well filled I think you may 
be the richer."" 

To be sure I shall be. It was a tremendous fag, 
morning, noon, and night; I got precious little time 
to myself. If I seemed beaten down at first, it was 
only because of you, and now you have put courage 
and hope into me. All the world may fail me so long 
as you don"t."" 

He had to bid her good-bye then, and hurry to catch 
the mail train. As he sat dozing in his corner, with 
his cap pulled down over his eyes, the jarring rumble 
of the wheels kept telling him over and over and over 
again that Fate might do as she would; he was the 
happiest man in the world. 


VIL 


After a week of storm, such as not seldom follows 
the halcyon weather of August on the south coast, the 
sea lay in the sunshine, dimpling, glittering, enticing, 
with the seductive smile of a treacherous woman; 
though one who knew its moods might be warned by 
the bars of purple shadow that slowly crossed the sur- 
face, and the low ominous murmur that ran along the 
shore. There were no white horses to break the 
glassy smoothness, and the wind seemed to have lain 
down to sleep, pillowed on that gentle-seeming heave. 

What a calm morning after the storm of yesterday,’’ 
remarked the unwary. 

Redway knew it well enough in all its moods, and 
knew too that his strong stroke would be a match 
for the undertow. He was a good swimmer, with an 
inborn passion for the sea. He never patronised the 
bathing-machines which stood in long ranks on either 
side of the pier for the behoof of the visitors, but went 
down in the early morning, along under the cliff to 
the eastward. He was speeding down the hill, his 
towel slung over his shoulder, past a row of bow-win- 
dowed lodging-houses, when he heard himself pur- 
sued by flying feet, and a breathless voice after him — 
‘‘ Mr. Redway ! Mr. Redway ! Oh, do stop for me ! 
Mother says I mayn’t bathe this morning unless you 
would let me go down with you. I have been looking 

68 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


69 


out for you ever since six o^clock. I won't be a bit 
of bother, really. Some fool has been telling the 
Mater there is an undertow, or some rot." 

‘‘ Come on then ; but it is quite true there is a heavy 
ground-swell this morning. You must mind and do 
as I bid you if you come." 

Redway was fond of the small fair-haired boy whom 
he had taught and trained. The child had made his 
appearance some seasons ago at the Palm-house as an 
infant prodigy on the violin. He was thirteen now, 
and beginning to outgrow his Eton jackets and turn- 
down collars, and being less and less of a phenomenon 
the older he grew, had now taken his seat among the 
second violins, and made himself generally useful with 
triangles or cymbals or whatever might be required 
in that line ; he quite regarded himself as the most in- 
dispensable person in the orchestra, next the Conduc- 
tor and the First Violin. For the latter he entertained 
a warm boyish devotion, and had solemnly threatened 
resignation when the breach took place between Red- 
way and the chief. Redway was touched by this proof 
of fidelity, though he had laughed at it and told the boy 
he would do him no good, and would certainly damage 
his own prospects, which he could not allow. 

A pile of clothes and a head bobbing about in the 
middle distance showed that another bather was al- 
ready in possession of Redway's favourite nook, and 
he thought he recognised the doubled-up gray hat as 
the headgear Knowles affected. They had avoided 
each other carefully of late. Still, I should hope the 
sea was big enough for both of us," Redway remarked 
to himself, as he deposited his garments at a little dis- 
tance. 


70 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


‘‘ Look here/' he said presently, after he had given 
the boy a lesson in side swimming and let him dive 
off his shoulders a few times, ‘‘ I am not going to paddle 
about in the shallows all the morning looking after 
you. I am going for a good stretch before I go in, 
so you must give me your word you won't go out of 
your depth, and don't stay in too long." 

He went off in an oblique direction as well to avoid 
an encounter with Knowles as to minimise the force 
of the current he would have to meet in returning. He 
looked back once to shout — '^Are you all right?" to 
his small companion, and then was lost sight of in the 
trough of a billow. The waves were stronger and more 
buffeting than they looked, but it only increased the 
pleasure he found in mounting one after another, and 
he went further than he had intended. He was com- 
ing in, and had turned over on his back to rest, a 
position which gave him little view of anything but 
sky and advancing crests, when he thought he heard 
shouts. At first he fancied it was only the boy, lark- 
ing about, when a more desperate cry made him turn 
over and swim his fastest. A moment more and he 
saw Bertie signalling wildly and pointing out to sea. 

That fellow out there ! " he shouted ; I believe’ it 
is Knowles — he can't get on; there's something the 
matter. He can't mean to go out again like that, and 
just now he threw up his arms and yelled. Ah, now he 
has gone under." 

Where ? " cried Redway ; I don't see him." 

Ah, there he is again — more to your left. He is 
drowning, I am certain. I don't believe I could get 
to him; besides, you made me promise not." 

‘‘ Don't you try ; you'd be no good. Run along the 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


71 

beach and get a boat out in case I can't get him in. 
I'll go." 

The current was setting strongly eastward, and go- 
ing out was quick work, yet somehow it almost seemed 
as though the drifting man were travelling faster than 
the swimmer. Yet no; he certainly gained upon him, 
and he could presently see that though he seemed to 
have lost the power of swimming he was still keeping 
himself afloat for the most part, though now and then 
he rolled helplessly over. 

Redway shouted to him with all his strength : 

Clasp your hands behind your head and lie still till 
I come." 

Evidently he was being sucked out by one of the 
strong currents that make that coast so peculiarly 
dangerous, and feeling himself unable to make way 
against it, had been seized by a paralysing fear. He 
had already sunk twice, but seeing help approaching, 
became calmer and began to keep himself afloat with 
more ease. The tremendous ground-swell added con- 
siderably to the difficulty, as the waves came riding 
in in lofty ridges, one behind the other, swamping now 
the floating one, now the rescuer, and hiding them 
from each other. 

Roger breasted them steadily as they came, some- 
times rising over the crest, anon compelled to dive 
through, and feeling each successive effort take more 
and more from the breath and strength he would pres- 
ently need to stem the tide. The great breakers which 
had but now seemed like rough playfellows, had 
turned into menacing dangerous brutes that must be 
mastered for his life. 

Now at last he was getting into the smoother water 


72 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


far out beyond the break, and made better way; but 
Knowles, seeing help was near, unclasped his hands 
and trying to strike out, rolled over, lost his head, 
and began to struggle wildly. Once more he flung up 
his arms, and Roger saw the silver bangle gleam upon 
his wrist. At sight of it a rush of hatred surged up 
in him towards the man who had so lately taken a 
mean revenge upon him. Why was he doing this? 
Why spend his strength in saving one who had done 
him an ill turn? Why not let him drown? He had 
sacrificed to him already five years of his life and its 
best chances; must he sacrifice his life itself? For 
he felt pretty sure now that that was how it must end. 
It was only a question whether one should drown or 
both. He could reach him now, it was true, but the 
chances were that in the condition the sinking man 
was in now, he would clutch, cling to, probably throttle 
his would-be rescuer. His own strength was already 
ebbing, and the going back would be none too easy 
alone. 

His strong young manhood cried out against death. 
At eight-and-twenty life is very sweet, and he was to 
be married next week. Must he drown in sight of his 
untasted bliss? He took one stroke to turn. The 
smiling blue sky, the sunny cliff called him back; a 
bitter despairing cry from the man he was forsaking 
called him on. He set his teeth hard. After all a man 
must die some day; better to die doing the straight 
thing than to live disgraced. He put his back into 
the next few strokes, and in a moment more he had 
arrived. 

For God’s sake don’t clutch me ! ” he cried. 

Lay your hands lightly on my shoulders and I can 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


73 

manage. Strike out with your feet a bit if you can/' 
he added presently ; it will help us on." 

'' Oh, thank God ! " gasped Knowles. '' I thought 
you were going to leave me to drown when you saw 
it was I." 

‘‘ Don’t talk. Save your breath." 

For awhile Redway wondered if they were really 
gaining round, or if he were spending his strength 
for naught. Yes, surely the shore seemed a little 
nearer than it did, and he took new courage. The 
waves carried them forward on their crests as they ap- 
proached the shore, and by fighting with all his might 
against the undertow he contrived to hold his own. 
At length he saw the boat putting out, but by that 
time they were gaining the shallows ; a few more 
strokes, and they would be able to wade in. 

Just as he was thinking that his task was almost 
done, the hands on his shoulders became as lead, and 
his head went down. His eyes were open, and he 
could see the clear green crystal walls closing him in. 
His breath was stopped. A strange fancy went 
through his mind that he had failed to do his duty, 
and he was sinking down, down to hell, with Em’s 
white arms throttling round his neck, and he could 
not loose them. His fingers grappled desperately 
among the shingle at the bottom ; then for a minute 
he lost himself. 

It was but momentary ; the next thing he knew he 
was being hauled over the side of the boat, and for 
an instant he lay still at the bottom, mazed. Then he 
sat up and shaking off the unconsciousness as he 
shook the water out of his eyes, he asked, What is 
it ? What on earth has happened ? ’’ 


74 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


What had happened was very simple, though it 
might easily have been fatal. So long as he was swim- 
ming in deep water the buoyancy of the waves helped 
to keep his burden afloat, but so soon as he reached 
the shallows near the shore there was not water 
enough to support the weight, and the pressure of 
Knowles’s hands on his shoulders plunged his head 
under water at the moment that he was too much ex- 
hausted to be able to resist, and quite unaware that he 
was not still out of his depth. It takes but a foot or 
two of water to drown a prostrate man, and it was 
lucky that the boat was by that time close at hand. 

Knowles had already waded ashore, and stood wait- 
ing at the edge as Redway got out, trying to utter 
some incoherent and ungracious-sounding thanks. 
For a man to whom effusiveness is difficult it is al- 
most impossible to express himself on such an occa- 
sion, and such a one will give thanks with more appar- 
ent gratitude for the loan of a pocket-knife than for 
the gift of his life. 

He paused, stammering, dumb, with all he wanted 
to say unspoken. Then suddenly he wrenched the 
silver trinket from his arm, snapped it in two, and 
flung the bits far into the sea. In the sunlight they 
whirled and fell, tHen sank, tossing up a shower of 
glittering spray. The eyes of both men followed them 
without speaking, and those of the boy were round 
with amazement. Then they parted and went their 
several ways up the beach to their clothes. 

Roger clapped Bertie on the back. Hullo, old 
chap, what is the matter with you ? We are both all 
right, you see. You won’t have to weep over either 
of our funerals.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


75 


I can’t help it/’ snuffled Bertie, who was quite 
overcome now it was all over. It was so horrid, 
and I did think you were drowned.” 

To tell you the truth, so did I for the moment. 
I did not realise we had got into such shallow water 
that we might have stood. Those shingle banks are 
very puzzling. It would have been too ridiculous to 
get that far and then make a mess of it. I was precious 
glad you were there.” 

“ Then I was a little use.” 

To be sure you were. There, there, cheer up and 
hurry into your clothes, there’s a good chap. I want 
you to trot off and see if you can’t get us a drop of 
brandy. I am shaking so I can hardly put anything 
on, and Knowles seems as bad,” as he looked across 
to where the other was languidly creeping into his 
garments. 

While the boy sped off to do his errand, Roger lay 
down half dressed upon the sand, realising now that 
it was all over, how near death he had been ; how near 
missing the happiness his heart was straining after. 
Wearied with a long swim as he had been already, his. 
achievement had reached the extreme limit of the pos- 
sible : another half dozen yards and he must have' 
failed, and then — Where would he have been on this, 
sunny summer morning ? Where and what ? He 
wondered with a shuddering sense of mystery and- 
awe, then covered his eyes and gave thanks for his. 
escape. 

When he looked up Graham Knowles was stand- 
ing beside him, very white and shaky still. 

‘'You are utterly done up,” he was saying with 
compunction. 


76 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Roger sat up. Oh, I am all right ; a bit breathed 
and tired, that's all. I have just sent the Infant for a 
pick-me-up ; you want one as much as I do." 

Knowles sat down and began throwing little peb- 
bles about. I tried to thank you," he began awk- 
wardly ; I couldn't somehow — words seem so im- 
potent and unmeaning. I hope you believe I am 
grateful." 

‘‘ Oh, that's all right ; we'll take all that for 
granted. Don't bother to say anything ; there's no 
occasion." 

‘‘ But I must just say how awfully ashamed I am. 
I did not act straight by you. I pretended to myself 
that I was doing the right thing ; but I saw it hor- 
ribly clear out there just now. It was my cursed 
jealousy. I could not forgive you for — I can't now ; 
it is no good pretending. Still, if I could rein- 
state — " 

‘‘No, certainly not — thanks ! Things can't be put 
back. What is done is done. This makes no real 
difference." 

Knowles went on tossing pebbles down into the 
brim of the sea ; then he spoke again : 

“ Do you know I had a horrible, ghastly fancy that 
when you saw it was I you would not come to me — 
that you meant to punish me by leaving me to drown." 

“ Don't ! " cried Redway ; “ it was too hideous. It 
is true I nearly left you. You see how little you have 
to thank me for." 

“ Nay, I think I owe you ten times more. If I had 
been in your place — " He paused : “ It is very awful 
to think what one is capable of. Ah, here comes the 
Infant. I shall not be sorry for something to pull me 
together; I own to feeling rather faint." 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


77 


They walked up the hill together, the boy clinging 
to Redway’s arm, and wondering what had passed 
between the two in his absence and whether the up- 
shot would be a reconciliation. At the corner the 
two men parted with a cool nod, as though they had 
only been sharing the most ordinary swim. 

When Knowles had gone, Bertie rubbed his cheek 
against Roger's sleeve with the coaxing action of a 
young calf. I say, you won't tell any one about me, 
will you ? " 

Redway laughed ; the boy's little share in the event 
seemed so unimportant. 

Why," he said, is your valiant little soul re- 
proaching you for not doing more than you could? 
You did as you were bid, and that was all I wanted." 

Oh, I know I couldn't have saved him. I only 
meant I made such a fool of myself after. I couldn't 
help it ; it was so splendid somehow." 

Roger laughed again and patted his shoulder. 

Well, suppose you come in to breakfast with me, and 
by that time there will be no red eyes to be accounted 
for." Presently he added, ‘‘ If I keep your secret, you 
must keep mine. I saw you were watching when 
Knowles pitched something into the sea : I want you 
not to say a word about that." 

I won't, of course; but I could not help seeing 
what it was. Why, I've seen that bangle on his wrist 
lots of times when he is conducting; it slips down 
when he waves his left arm. I did so want to ask you 
what it meant. I won't breathe a word." 

I can't tell you anything about it. Simply I want 
you to keep a silent tongue in your head. Can you? " 

Bertie nodded. Trust me," he said. 


VIIL 


They had been married a fortnight. Their wedding- 
journey had been brief perforce, since lessons had be- 
come of paramount importance, and must in nowise 
be neglected.^ Their ten days had been divided between 
Paris and Etretat — Em’s choice, of course. It was 
but a glimpse — the outer husk of Paris, so to speak, 
seen, as the hasty tourist sees it, from halfpenny chairs 
under the trees in the Champs Elysee; but Paris is 
always Paris to the outsider, even out of season. The 
days passed pleasantly enough: little dinners at the 
Palais Royal, evenings at the theatre or some cafe 
chantant, mornings of shopping and sightseeing, just 
suited Em ; she was pleased with everything, amused 
and amusing, never tired, never bored. Then five days 
at the most entertaining of French watering-places, 
and so home. 

Her choice of a honeymoon journey was probably 
wise. Solitude d deux to start with is often too great 
a strain on new untried relations, but Roger began to 
feel that he had never yet really had his wife to himself ; 
he wanted to carry her off into the country, away from 
other eyes, and realise his own happiness. No sooner 
had they been settled at home than Emmie’s cousins 
and the people they introduced began to buzz about 
them, and when he came in from his afternoon’s work 
he generally found his wife entertaining a roomful at 
tea. He was well pleased that it should be so : he did 

78 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


79 


not want her to be dull, and as she shrewdly pointed 
out, the more they got known the better for their 
chances of work ; still he wanted to have a turn himself. 
Saturday was his free day, and he put forward his own 
claims. 

I want you to come out with me this afternoon.'’ 

All right. Where shall we go ? There is a matinee 
of ' The Idler ' on to-day, I believe ; but I have seen 
that twice." 

‘‘ No, no : we've had enough of that sort of thing 
for the present. I want a change. I am going to 
carry you right off into the country." 

‘‘ We might make up a little party, and go to the 
New Forest if you liked. There's a char-a-banc goes 
at two — or we might bike. The Miltons would go, I 
know, and so would the Aldersons." 

Oh, I don't want a parcel of Miltons and Aider- 
sons : I want just you — for once. I am going to take 
you to one of my pet places, where you have never 
been." 

Em made a little moue. Out in the wilds, I sup- 
pose, where there is no getting a cup of tea." 

“ Well, we can take that precious tea-basket of 
yours. I'll act beast of burden." 

Em laughed. There is a vein of inconvenient and 
inappropriate sentiment about you. Dodge, that crops 
up in unexpected places. Haven't you learnt that I 
hate the country ? " 

But I don't, and I am going to teach you to like 
it," he answered, with the sublime faith of the new- 
married man in his wife's teachability. 

Roger's love of the country was a deep-rooted thing 
and belonged to the days when he had paddled bare- 


8o' 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


foot in the silvery shallow streams that intersect the 
green meadows on either side of Dronechester, fish- 
ing for minnows, or tramped over the wide-rolling 
downs that hem the old city round, to the hazel 
coppices in the hollows, bird’s-nesting with other 
naughty boys. An English boy who is country-bred 
never quite loses the home feeling of it, and it claimed 
Roger on another side as well. He must perforce live 
in a crowd, for what should a fiddler do in the wilds, 
with no one to fiddle to — unless, like Orpheus, he 
could make the rocks and woods respond ? In the 
main, town-life suited him ; he must have his public 
and the stimulus of busy life around him ; but his 
artist nature had need sometimes of great spaces of 
silence ; of lone places where his fellow men and all 
their works should not come between him and the 
great World-spirit. Sometimes at Pinecliff, hemmed 
in with that endless succession of prosperous, prosaic 
villas, he felt crowded, stifled, as if he could not go 
on for ever giving out without taking in ; and then 
nothing would do but he must go over the hills and 
far away. 

The sea at Pinecliff, dotted with pleasure-boats, 
fringed with bathing-machines, was no doubt a large 
salubrious expanse of water, but it had no message 
for him ; he must get away to where the lofty head- 
land ran out between the river and the sea, flushed 
with heather, golden with gorse, shut away from the 
town by the great stretch of solemn pinewoods that 
belonged to the Tristerwood estate. Down there the 
waves lapped upon a desolate tawny shore, and the 
sea-birds wheeled and screamed unmolested. There 
was an influence there that he felt without being able 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


8i 

to give any account of it. He thought he need only 
take Em there, and she would feel it too. He wanted 
to get nearer to her. The courting days had been so 
brief, the honeymoon so packed with new sights and 
experiences, that they seemed to have been living on 
the surface ; he wanted to begin the real life now. 

They started on their expedition in bourgeois 
fashion on the top of an omnibus, for the way he 
meant to take was impracticable for the bicycles ; 
then, alighting at the easternmost suburb, came by a 
short cut and a gap in the fence, right into the Tris- 
terwood enclosure. They were trespassing of course, 
but what of that ? At least there was no barbed wire. 

After the sunny streets, the shop-fronts, the rattle 
of the "bus, it was like entering a church. They were 
looking down a long dim aisle of russet columns with 
a dense roof overhead, through which the sunlight 
filtered sparingly. The trees stood in the midst of a 
sea of bracken, turning golden and bronze with the 
touch of the first cold autumn nights, and the path 
on which they trod was carpeted with tawny pine- 
needles. There seemed no bounds to the place : the 
aisles were lost in faint blue haze through which the 
sun struck slantwise, writing golden arabesques on 
the red tree-trunks. It was still, with the hush that 
belongs to great pinewoods — a hush which enfolds so 
many scarcely noticeable sounds — the light crackle 
of a dry branch, as a squirrel flashes from one tree to 
another, the soft fall of a cone he lets drop in his hasty 
flight, a rustle, infinitely faint, where a weasel slides 
through the bracken and gambols across the path- 
way, the sleepy croodling of the wood-pigeons, and 


82 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


like it, only vaster, the ever-recurring murmur of the 
waves as they wash up along the shore. 

It put Roger in mind of the long nave of Drone- 
chester Cathedral, with its ranks of lofty pillars losing 
themselves in the dimness above, with its mystic 
shadows, its filtering sunlight. He looked round at 
the slim, white, bridal-looking figure beside him, and 
it seemed to him as though they were moving side by 
side up some great solemn church towards an unseen 
altar. He could not put the notion into words, but 
his hand sought his wife’s. 

She broke into a little run. Oh, come along ! ” 
she cried. ‘‘ Let’s make haste out of this dismal old 
wood. It’s like the dreadful enchanted forests of the 
nursery tales, and it seems to have struck you dumb. 
Who would believe that the sun is shining outside, 
and the wind blowing too ? ” 

She snatched her hand away, and skimmed along 
in front of him, and he was fain to follow laughing. 

There, didn’t I tell you ? ” she called back to him 
presently over her shoulder ; it is an enchanted 
wood, and I have found the enchanted castle, buried 
in the heart of it.” 

She had reached a high oak paling, topped by a 
tamarisk hedge, and was peeping through. 

“ No,” she cried, as Roger tried to get a view over, 
you’ll see nothing that way ; it is no use being 
proud. You must kneel right down and put your eye 
to this knot-hole, and you will see a fairy picture.” 

It was like a peep-show : a wide garden ablaze with 
flowers, a stately terrace with a broad flight of steps 
flanked by stone vases overflowing with colour, a pea- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 83 

cock sunning himself on the balustrade, and ' an 
Italian-looking house for a background. 

Ah,’’ said Em with an envious sigh, as she got up 
from her knees and flicked the bits of moss off her 
white frock, that is the sort of house I should like 
to live in. Who are the happy folk that dwell there, I 
wonder.” 

‘‘ Not so very happy, by all accounts. My pretty 
one, I wish I could ever hope to put you in such a 
nest.” 

But who are they ? And why do you say they are 
not happy ? ” she asked as they walked on. 

Because they have not the one thing they want. 
The place belongs to a Sir Hervey Gilderdale, a man 
of very old family, enormously wealthy, which old 
families in these days seldom are, and his sole desire 
was for a son to inherit it all. The only son is a dwarf 
and imbecile ; so you see there is a crook in their 
lot.” 

A good deal to gild it though. I think I remem- 
ber seeing Sir Hervey that time I came down to sing 
at the Palm-house. I heard him saying things about 
me, so I asked Mr. Knowles who he was. He had a 
fair-haired woman with him. Was that the wife? ” 

No, I think not; I believe she is an invalid. He 
is a great patron of music and awfully good to 
Knowles. The Palm-house owes him a good deal.” 

A little further, and they came out of shadows onto 
the low cliff where the sun shone and the wind combed 
the long yellow bents away from the sea, and the stone- 
chats whisked cheerfully from one furze-bush to an- 
other. The slopes above the river were all golden 
with sheets of corn-marigold, and beyond them the 


84 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


old gray minster of Ebbchurch brooded over the 
marshes. On one side of the headland the river broad- 
ened to a lagoon, then narrowed, forcing its way be- 
tween the sand-banks that fenced the mouth, watched 
over by a tumble-down ferry-cottage and an ancient 
inn of evil repute in the old smuggling days. The 
gnarled scanty trees that came down in single file from 
the further shore must have witnessed wild doings in 
their time, but now the whole place seemed gone to 
sleep, half buried in golden sand. 

Well,” said Emmie, ‘‘ we can’t go much farther at 
any rate; we seem to have come to the end of all 
things. And pray how do you propose to boil the 
kettle in this gale ? ” 

But Roger knew his bearings, and presently had 
found a deep cleft, looking seaward but sheltered from 
the wind, where Em could unpack her tea-basket and 
butter the scones while he watched over the vagaries 
of the kettle. 

Nothing but sea and sky all round; above, a blue 
in which thought might lose itself ; beneath their feet, 
the oncoming of wave after wave curling over, with 
tender green shadows under the creaming foam, every 
one different, yet every one on the same plan through 
all the infinity of change. When tea was over Roger 
lay down on the cushiony withered ling, his heart 
singing to itself something which by and by his fiddle 
should interpret ; something that should have the beat 
of the infinite ocean in it, and yet be filled with a meas- 
ureless content. 

Em was fidgeting about with her tea-things, wiping 
cups and thriftily packing away superfluous cakes. 
He held out his hand to her when she had finished. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


85 


Come here a minute, wife, and sit by me.” 

She came, and presently his arm went round her 
and drew her close. It was one of those moments that 
come but rarely, when our desire seems attained, our 
hand just closing on the coveted good, and we admit 
that truly God's world is fair. The sense of happiness 
wanted to find expression, but the words when they 
came were banal enough. 

My darling, are you happy ? " 

She moved a little restlessly. ‘‘ Oh, I am well 
enough, but don't you think we ought to be moving? 
One gets cramped sitting on the ground; and just sup- 
posing any one were to come by ! We should be taken 
for the worst description of cheap tripper." 

His arm loosened, and she slipped away and went 
to the edge of the cliff, looking back to where Pine- 
cliff lay under its pall of smoke. He did not speak, 
and in a minute she turned to him again. 

** It is awfully pretty here, but you know I think it 
was a mistake coming by ourselves; it would have 
been better fun if we had brought the Aldersons." 

He had drawn himself up into a sitting posture 
with his hands loosely clasped round his knees. As he 
watched his wife standing at the edge, her light, grace- 
ful figure in a stiff white pique skirt sharply outlined 
against the blue, her pretty profile turned towards him 
with a slight discontent, a sudden sense of hopeless 
aloofness came over him, a sort of revelation of the 
absolute solitude of every human soul. After all, she 
was an utter stranger to him: three months ago he 
had not known of her existence, and now what did he 
know of her? All through his hasty courtship he had 
believed in the day when she would be his very own ; 


86 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


but now — if these two weeks would not bring them to- 
gether, then nothing ever would. 

Em, like most girls, had been well pleased to sport 
with the little butterfly-winged Cupids who come all 
wreathed with roses and blue ribbons, like old-fash- 
ioned valentines; but when Love came, full-grown, 
with crimson overshadowing wings and grave eyes 
that frightened her, she shrank reluctant. It was all 
very well to be wooed with compliments, presents, 
flowers, caresses, and easy enough to respond with 
favours, now granted, now withheld. But now all was 
changed; her maiden's crown and sceptre were laid 
aside, and the exacting demands of her husband's 
love wearied and repelled her. He thought his wooing 
was all done, when it was in truth but begun. Would 
he have patience and comprehension for the task? 

Nevertheless on the surface, which is where we all 
live most of the time, all went well. The curtain which 
had been lifted for an instant before Roger's eyes was 
let down again almost immediately. The daily famil- 
iarity soon hid the inner strangerhood. 

They were both soon hard at work. Redway was 
labouring to extend and secure his connection, and 
set it on a firm basis above dependence on the breath 
of popular favour. Just now he was on the crest of 
the wave : he had always been much liked, and his sud- 
den dismissal set rumour afloat by no means to his dis- 
credit; followed as it was by his marriage with the 
pretty soprano, a touch of romance crept into the tale, 
and he became quite the fashion. Em too profited; 
a nobody in town, she was a star in Pinecliff, and she 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


87 


admitted that her husband had been wise in refusing 
to go back to London and begin all over again, put 
back five years in the race. 

Manlike he was rather reluctant to let her work ; 
it did not sort with his notions of the fitness of things, 
but the wisdom of it was evident. The minute 
housekeeping of their little menage could not possibly 
occupy her time, and to give a few singing lessons 
every day, with occasional engagements for ‘‘ at 
homes,’’ kept her busy and content. It rather an- 
noyed her that her husband’s quarrel with the Con- 
ductor should prevent her appearing at the Palm- 
house ; still private parties suited the calibre of her 
voice better, and pleased her by taking her into a so- 
ciety she would otherwise hardly have entered, where 
her pretty face and charming personality, no less than 
her taking style of singing, always found her friends. 
She liked the smart world, even on sufferance, and 
her tact, as well as her husband’s pride, stood them in 
good stead, and enabled them to hold their own in 
houses where they appeared professionally. 

She thought her cousins and their circle of ac- 
quaintance dull, and failing the big world, much pre- 
ferred Roger’s musical friends, though she might sniff 
a little at the wives of some of them. She had had 
enough of the provincial society of a country doctor’s 
daughter ; the life of a bachelor-woman in town, such 
as she and Ethel had had a taste of — the life of latch- 
key, restaurant meals, and cigarettes — was the one 
that appealed to her ; the life of movement, of colour, 
of people who worked — ^journalists, actresses, painters, 
players — was the one she hankered after, and she 
made herself very pleasant to the Bohemian people. 


88 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


often foreign musicians, her husband sometimes 
brought to the house. 

Roger was immensely proud of her — of her clever- 
ness, her skill in managing to make their little income 
go so far, and giving an artistic air to all their sur- 
roundings ; of the way she contrived to look the best- 
dressed woman in a crowd at a minimum of cost ; of 
the wonderful social aptitudes which made her in- 
experience a match for the most practised woman of 
the world. He admired, too, the dexterity with which 
she discussed everything, and appeared to have read 
everything, though the facile way in which she over- 
turned traditional convictions sometimes staggered 
him. A man who read little and thought less, his 
faith had undergone no shaking ; the mould into 
which his beliefs had been poured had never been 
broken. After the first movement of astonishment, 
Em’s modern views left him quite untouched : he had 
not command of tongue to argue or refute ; they 
simply rolled off him, and his wife reflected what a 
borne intellect she had married. 

In one only gift of hers, he seemed not to take the 
pride she conceived to be her due. 

'^You never appreciate my singing. Dodge,” she 
said discontentedly one day as they left a party. It 
is very strange. Far better judges than you think a 
lot of it. A man said to me this evening I really ought 
to go on the stage. Why are you always so grudging 
about it ? One might really imagine you were jeal- 
ous.” 

' He laughed, and patted the hand that rested on his 
arm. 

Fancy being jealous of my wife ! I might as 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


89 


well be jealous of my own nose. No, there are things 
that suit you, and there are things that don’t. You 
have such an unerring instinct for the becoming in 
gowns, I wonder you have not for songs.” 

How absurd ! I can’t always sing the same old 
things just because you took a fancy to them at first, 
and don’t care for anything else.” 

As to your going on the stage,” he went on, ‘‘ I 
simply could not spare you, and I don’t think you in 
the least estimate what the training and the grind 
would be. I don’t believe you could stand it.” 

What rubbish ! When you know how strong I 
am ! Some of these days, my dear, when you take 
the town by storm, I shall go in for a regular train- 
ing — as I should have done already if I had not mar- 
ried you.” 


IX. 


Never had Em looked fairer, more daintily fragile 
and feminine, than she did one summer morning, lying 
back among her pillows, becomingly arrayed in a 
heliotrope dressing-jacket with lace frills, a soft spot 
of pink in either cheek. Beside her lay a very small 
bundle done up in an embroidered blanket, and a 
capable-looking woman, certificated and trained to the 
last point of efficiency, was bustling about the room, 
putting all in order for the visit of the new-made 
father. 

A night of peril and pain, of horrible anxiety and 
dread for Roger, had been followed, in the dawn of 
an exquisite morning, by the comforting message that 
a daughter had been born to him, and Em was safe 
and doing well. He had wanted a boy, as most men 
do, but what of that ? His face was full of thankful- 
ness, if a little touched with awe, as he stole softly 
to the bed and bent over his wife. 

She put up her face to be kissed. There, there ! 
she said, as she gave his hand a little pat, I am do- 
ing very well, but I am not to be agitated, so you 
ought not to look so — so exciting. Were you very 
nervous about me ? ’’ 

Horribly ; but we won’t talk of that now. You 
look blooming. Well, where’s the young woman ? 
Smothered in this parcel ? Mayn’t I look ? ” 

Em turned back a scalloped corner of flannel, and 


go 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


91 

something very small and fluffy and red was dimly 
visible. 

I suppose you must/^ she said discontentedly. 

But really I am ashamed of it. Did you ever behold 
such a wretched little specimen ? Not only a girl, 
which is bad enough, but an ugly one.’^ 

Her tone jarred. He said nothing, but with his 
forefinger touched a downy cheek that felt like velvet. 

‘‘ It’s no good being vexed with me,” she went on 
with a pout. ‘‘ I couldn’t help it. Of course I know 
you wanted a boy, and so did I ; but after all, it isn’t 
as if the creature were heir to anything, is it ? ” 

‘‘ My darling, don’t vex about it. I am only too 
thankful — ” he broke off, afraid of saying too much 
if he let himself begin to express the relief and tender- 
ness that surged up in him. 

‘‘ Never mind. Ma’am, better luck next time,” said 
the nurse, approaching the bed with something in a 
cup that she was stirring. 

‘‘ Next time ! Thank you ! I am sure I hope to 
goodness there will never be a next time. It is too 
bad to be laid up and have to go through all I have 
for something one doesn’t in the least want and never 
wished for. Oh, nurse, do take it away — nasty little 
thing ! It is making the most awful faces ; I am 
sure something is going to happen to it.” 

The nurse laughed in a superior manner. Law, 
Ma’am, that’s nothing ; it is easy to see you are not 
used to children.” 

She whipped it off the bed and held it up, slapping 
its back in a knowing and scientific style. Now it was 
out of the blanket, it was apparent how tiny it was : 
the little white bedgown it was dressed in was small 


92 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


enough for a doll, but the baby inside seemed to shake 
about like a little shrivelled kernel in too large a 
sheath. 

"" Here, give her to me a minute, nurse,'' said 
Roger ; I want to look at her. I have hardly seen 
her yet." 

The nurse observed critically the strong delicate 
hands, used to the handling of instruments rarer if 
not more precious than babies, and decided that he 
might be trusted. 

He carried the child to the window, and stood a 
minute or two with his back to the room, looking 
down at her — at the little red, puckered, ancient-look- 
ing face, the queer bald, shapeless head. Then she 
opened her eyes, purple-blue, as a new baby's always 
are, and he seemed to be gazing down into the heart 
of a mystery. He had always had a great tenderness 
for small, weak things : puppies and kittens ap- 
pealed to him in their soft helplessness ; but some- 
thing far deeper woke in him when he felt the stirring 
of the little live body nestling into the hollow of his 
arm, and the wee fingers with their soft nails clawed 
feebly at his moustache as he stooped his face over 
her. 

The father was very strong in Roger, as it often is 
where it might be least expected. His own child- 
hood had known little cherishing ; but after all, it is 
generally what has been lacking to ourselves that we 
are most lavish with to our children. Perhaps if 
Emmie had shown more tenderness, his would have 
been slower to wake. Most men are pleased with a 
little girl, by and by when the queerness of infancy 
has rounded out into the beauty and charm of child- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


93 


hood ; but few take much notice of the morsel of 
humanity at the very beginning of its earthly career. 
It seems to belong more exclusively to the mother in 
those early days. Probably if Em had been more 
motherly, Roger would have looked at his daughter, 
remarked what a queer little beggar she was, smiled 
and gone away ; but it seemed hard that the little new 
arrival, whose sex was certainly no fault of her own, 
should have to make her entry unwelcomed, into a 
loveless world ; so in the very first minute she con- 
quered her place in her father's heart. 

He came back presently, and laid the baby beside 
its mother. There was a moved look on his face as 
he stooped over Em to kiss her once more, with low 
murmured words of tenderness. 

She looked at him a moment, then broke into a little 
laugh. ‘‘ Why, Dodge," she cried, how solemn you 
are ! Pray, have you been getting up this scene with 
correct accessories from ‘ The Heir of Redclyffe ' or 
^ The Head of the Family ' ? I am afraid I am not 
well up in classics for the young, but I am sure it 
must have been one or the other. What a pity I am 
so out of keeping. I spoil the effect." 

He straightened himself with a short strong word 
that made the nurse turn round from the dressing- 
table, shocked. 

‘‘ I think you had better go now, sir," she observed 
severely. Mrs. Redway ought to be kept perfectly 
quiet." 

He drew away, but Em put out her hand and de- 
tained him. '' Oh, poor old boy ! " she said with 
some compunction, I didn't mean to be nasty to you. 
I expect you were horribly frightened about me last 


94 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


night, and you are feeling rather upset ; but you know 
I never can stand heroics : they make me wicked ; 
and as to being thankful, why to me the whole busi- 
ness is simply an unspeakable nuisance. There, good- 
bye. Don’t let that wretched Eliza give you bad din- 
ners while I am up-stairs. You may come and see me 
again later on if you are good.” 

He went off then to give a lesson : for the day’s 
work must be done though the world were new- 
created. Just at first he felt a little damped ; he was 
quite hurt that Em should display such studied indif- 
ference to this wonderful wee daughter of his and hers. 
Yet after all that was the very point : it was studied. 
He ought surely to know his Em well enough by this 
time to be aware that she had a rooted aversion to 
feeling, or at least to expressing, anything that was 
expected of her. A young mother and her first-born 
are the very commonplaces of sentiment, so no doubt 
she considered she owed it to herself to feign even a 
little aversion. He laughed at himself as he owned 
that Em, with all her absurdities and affected mod- 
ernities, never failed to charm him, whatever she 
might say or do. For the moment he might be vexed, 
but the flood-tide of joy rose again, and he seemed 
to be walking on air as he breasted the steep hill to 
West Pinecliff. 

His pupil there was a dull girl in the elementary 
stage. He listened impatiently for awhile to her slow 
painful fumblings, then took the violin from her to 
show her how a passage should be played. As his 
fingers curled round the strings, and he felt the throb- 
bings of the wood against his chin, a sudden uncon- 
trollable desire seized him for the outpouring of all 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


95 


he felt and could not say. There was only one com- 
poser for him to-day: none of your latter-day com- 
plainers, with their problems, their discouragements, 
their despair — not those, but Mendelssohn in one of 
his moods of radiant felicity. With a curt Do you 
know this?^' he broke into the last movement of the 
E-minor Concerto. Relief, thankfulness, the pure 
joie de vivre, all sang themselves out in the flying runs. 
His eyes shone as he handed the instrument back to 
his astonished pupil. 

‘‘ There,"' he said, ‘‘ do you think you could do 
that?" 

The young lady's mother turned round from the 
window where she was occupied with her netting, also 
a little surprised. 

‘‘Not quite yet, Mr. Redway, I should think; it 
seems a little beyond her." 

He laughed, and turned the girl back to the ele- 
mentary study which was her proper task. 

Going down the hill, he overtook Ercolani, the 
Italian double-bass, sauntering languidly along in the 
shade, who remarked, “An oppressively hot morning," 
as he passed. 

“ Glorious, isn't it? " was the response. 

Ercolani paused and wiped the damp from his pale 
face. “ Why, Dodge," he remarked, “ life seems to be 
smiling on you to-day; you look as if some one had 
left you a fortune." 

“ Do I ? Better than that : I have a little daughter, 
born this morning." 

“ I congratulate you. The wife doing well, I 
hope ? " 

“ Very well, thanks. But it is really absurd that I 


96 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


should carry my triumph legibly in my face this fash- 
ion. I must try and tone down a bit. I feel a little 
mad.’’ 

The elder man smiled, but with sympathy, not mock- 
ery, in his eyes. 

Well, of course it is the most commonplace, every- 
day experience,” went on Redway, looking a little 
foolish ; yet somehow this morning I feel as if the 
world was upside down.” 

I know. The first time it seems a miracle. After 
all, you know the world is new for every one of us.” 

Roger laughed again, out of the joyousness of his 
heart. '' Why, you seem to speak with experience. 
One would fancy you must have a nursery yourself, 
hidden away somewhere.” 

Ercolani paused for an instant, and a curious grave, 
far-away smile crossed his face. Ah, my nursery,” 
he said slowly. Four little graves in Brompton 
cemetery — that is my nursery.” 

‘‘ Oh ! ” cried Redway, distressed, I had no idea — 
I am so awfully sorry. I’d no notion you had ever 
been married.” 

No, no, of course not; how should you? Don’t 
distress yourself. You have only known me living 
here as a bachelor with my good sister Marta. It was 
all so long ago — but one does not forget. It was 
diphtheria; it was all over in a few weeks. And then 
their mother followed them : it broke her heart, poor 
girl.” 

‘‘ How awful ! ” said Roger, full of ruth, and with a 
new tenderness that yesterday he would hardly have 
comprehended. I must seem a brute to have brought 
it all to your mind.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


97 


'' Not at all. It does me good to speak of it some- 
times. Marta, good soul, will never hear the slightest 
reference to my loss : she fancies it is bad for me to 
dwell upon it ; but ‘ Kept close is not forgotten,’ you 
know. But there, I ought not to overcloud your joy 
by a reminder of the tragedy that is in the world for 
some of us. Such an experience is very rare, thank 
God ! There was a terrible epidemic that year. May 
you never know such a visitation ! ” 

Redway walked on beside him for a few yards in 
silence, not liking to break hastily away, yet feeling 
as if his mere existence, in his pride and joy, must be 
an affront. And then the other spoke again : 

'' You must not fancy you have hurt me. It is good 
to see sunshine, though one must sit in the shade one- 
self. At any rate, my experience has taught me one 
thing,” he added in a lighter tone : how very uncom- 
fortable the household is apt to be when the mistress 
is laid by. Come home with me and have some din- 
ner. Marta will be pleased to welcome you and hear 
your news; the veriest old maids always delight to 
hear of a baby.” 

‘‘ Thanks ; you are awfully good. Are you sure it 
won’t bother the Signorina? I must just fly home first 
and see how my treasures are prospering.” 

To be sure. I will go slowly on and tell my sister 
to expect you.” 

‘‘ That is a very wholesome-natured young fellow,” 
he said to himself as he watched Redway speeding up 
the opposite hill. '' I don’t care for Madame much, 
I must say ; but Englishwomen are queer creatures — 
very queer.” 

Certainly familiarity with the Signorina Marta would 


98 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


hardly serve as a key to such a personality as Em's. 
Neither brother nor sister had any of the vivacity of 
the typical Italian ; they did not belong to the sunny 
South, but had been bred up in an ancient North 
Italian city, between high walls and cold shadows, and 
had more of the slow calm Lombard temperament. 
The Signorina, convent-bred and conventional to a 
degree, looked upon the free-mannered bicycling 
young ladies of Pinecliff as a kind of hybrid race, 
neither men nor women, and she desired no acquaint- 
ance with them. She was angular, she was prim, with 
a code of deportment that matched the scanty black 
silk gown and transparent mittens with thumbs that she 
always wore. She was absolutely devoted to her brother, 
and if Redway roused and interested Giovanni, or 
Giannino, as she always called him, that was enough 
for her ; she made him welcome, and her best recipes 
for stuffed tomatoes and maccaroni cheese were put in 
requisition on his behalf. She declined, however, to 
hear a word about the baby, and frowned down the 
slightest reference. She was afraid it would set 
Giannino thinking of his own little girls, fallen asleep 
in perpetual childhood so long ago. 




X. 


‘‘ Em, do you recollect an Italian-looking house with 
a brilliant garden, hidden away in the midst of the 
pinewoods by the sea? We peeped enviously through 
the palings like two children that first day I took you 
for a country walk/^ 

‘‘ What, the enchanted palace? Why, of course 
I dor 

Roger held a crested note in his hand. ‘‘ Well, I am 
going to penetrate within the magic portal.’’ 

“ What fun ! Get me in too, won’t you? ” 

I wish I could. If it was a party I might.” 

‘‘What is it? Lessons, I suppose; but I thought 
they had no children except that poor little idiot one 
sees driving about.” 

“ Not lessons exactly, but something of the sort — 
a kind of thing I like much better than driving rudi- 
ments into children’s heads. Sir Hervey Gilderdale 
plays the ’cello, more or less amateurishly, I expect; 
he has got a violin-playing cousin there, and wants 
to practise quartets, so he proposes to hire me as first 



like it. Besides, it may lead to more: he hints at 
giving some musical ‘ at homes ’ later on, if the thing 
prospers. I wonder if they are good enough.” 

Em laughed. “ You always have a healthy con- 
tempt for the mere amateur,” she said. “ Do try and 
induce Lady Gilderdale to have singing lessons, if you 
can. I should think you might work it.” 

Q9 


lOO 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


'' Oh, I fancy she is quite an invalid. I used to see 
Sir Hervey at the Palm-house when I was leading 
there, but I don’t remember ever seeing her. He was a 
pale, limp sort of man, quite a musical enthusiast. I 
wish he may turn out a patron of the old style, and 
make me Master of the Musicians. They say he is 
rolling in money, and does not know what to do with 
it. He does not play, does not race, does not hunt, 
and though he has one of the finest moors in Scotland, 
does not shoot. He seems to do nothing but fiddle 
and write verses. He has a yacht, but he never races 
her — only cruises mildly about.” 

'' Well, if you can direct a small stream of his super- 
fluous wealth into our pockets, I wish you would. 
I want a new bicycle horribly, and if only I could 
afford a properly trained nurse for the brat, I should 
not be so tied. It takes all one’s time to look after 
those cheap girls.” 

Shyness was by no means among Redway’s weak- 
nesses, yet when on the appointed afternoon he pre- 
sented himself at Tristerwood, he began to know what 
the sensation meant. As he passed from the garish 
sunshine, from a confused vision of scarlet blossoms 
against a glittering sapphire sea, into the shaded dim- 
ness of a great paved hall with a frescoed ceiling, and 
followed the solemn footman down a long corridor 
between ranks of palms and statues, an unusual dif- 
fidence came over him. The man flung open an arched 
door, and sent his name echoing down what looked 
more like a private chapel than an ordinary room, 
and he had to follow it for some distance before he 
could make out who was there. 

There was a dais at one end and upon it a small, 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


lOI 


exquisitely carved and painted organ. All down one side 
were narrow lofty windows filled with stone tracery and 
with stone seats for two in each embrasure, like the 
windows of an old banqueting-hall. The Erard grand 
looked a mere plaything in the vast space. At the far 
end was a small group of dim, shadowy’ people, and 
Redway paused a minute in his advance, to try and 
make out which was Sir Hervey. 

At the end where they were sitting, the windows 
were all shaded; but just where he stood, a broad 
shaft of western sun fell across the floor, and lighted 
up his square-set, tense figure and cropped black 
head. The languid group in the shadows stirred a 
little and looked towards him, then a tall, loose-jointed 
man with a pointed beard detached himself and 
emerged. He greeted the musician courteously, and 
led him down among the shadows, and they became 
distinct. 

First a very tall woman, leaning back in a crimson 
lounging-chair, with hair as white as hoarfrost. An- 
other, almost equally tall, was standing resting her 
shoulder against a black oak grotesque cabinet, and 
held a viola in her hand. This last had somewhat the 
air of a Botticelli angel, or perhaps one should rather 
say, of one of those imitation Botticellis which are 
painted by the pre-Raphaelites of to-day. Her cousin. 
Sir Hervey, had once remarked of her, It used to be 
the fashion to compare women to flowers : Clemency 
puts me in mind of nothing so much as fool’s parsley. 
There is a kind of sketchy, straggling grace about her ; 
pretty yet ineffective.” 

Sir Hervey presented the violinist to Lady Gilder- 
dale, to Miss Fane. In the background was a gentle- 


102 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


faced woman in a gray nurse's dress, watching over a 
strange-looking box on wheels, something between a 
perambulator and a coffin, in which lay the contorted 
body and large, old-looking head of the poor little 
heir. 

Tea and iced claret-cup stood on a table near, and 
Lady Gilderdale moved to it and asked what he would 
have. ‘‘ You must have had a hot walk from Pine- 
cliff," she observed. 

‘‘ I did not walk ; I bicycled," he replied with a 
whimsical notion that in this hushed, old-world at- 
mosphere, the mere mention of a bicycle was an 
anachronism, if not a profanity. 

‘‘Bicycled! Oh," cried Miss Fane in horrified ac- 
cents — she spoke with a slight lisp — “ How could you 
risk a precious violin on a bicycle? Just supposing 
you had had a smash ! And Pinecliff hills are so dan- 
gerous." 

“ My violin, I regret to say, is not so very precious. 
It is dear to me, I have played on it so long ; but some 
day, I hope — " He stopped. With all the growing 
claims of Em and Betty, his hopes of saving enough 
to get a Strad. one day were becoming daily more 
remote. 

Sir Hervey went to a cabinet with glass doors, and 
took therefrom a fiddle of curves as exquisite as those 
of a Venus, of a glowing amber tint that seemed to tell 
of centuries of music. He handled it with reverent 
tenderness. 

“ Some day you shall try this," he said. “ It is 
an Amati. It ought to hold the soul of a musician, 
for it belonged to one of the finest players I have ever 
heard. He was a Hungarian gipsy, taken up and 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


103 


educated by Count Czarda, who, as perhaps you know, 
was a great connoisseur. The man used to play in 
Buda-Pesth. He never came to London, alas! He 
was killed in a duel — a brilliant career cut short.^^ 

Redway handled the instrument respectfully enough 
to satisfy the owner, though he had never heard of 
either the gipsy player nor the Count. Ah,’" he said, 
‘‘ it is a pleasure just to hold it in one’s hands. Do you 
not play on it yourself? ” 

“ Never. The ’cello is my instrument. Zamorski 
cured me of my ambition to be a violinist.” 

How so ? ” 

Redway had an odd abrupt way of asking a question, 
and the two ladies smiled at each other. 

By showing me what violin-playing could be if 
one lived for nothing else. With the violin it must 
be all or nothing: one cannot play a little. Since in 
my case it could not be all, it had to be nothing. To 
take part, not unworthily, in chamber-music, that is 
my highest ambition now. Well, shall we begin?” 

Roger laid down the Amati reluctantly, and began 
to tune his own violin ; and Lady Gilderdale, moving 
to the piano, struck the A. As she stood there, he, 
looking towards her, became conscious that his first 
impression of her had been all wrong. The silver hair, 
the chilly repose of her manner, had given him the idea 
of an oldish woman ; now that he really looked at her, 
he saw that she was nothing of the sort — a few years 
older than himself perhaps. Her figure had the slen- 
der grace of a girl, and her complexion — ^well, the 
girls of to-day, with their faces healthily tanned by 
hockey, golf, bicycling, and what not, do not have 
such skins. Hers was of the kind that our grand- 


104 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


fathers would have compared in rhymed couplets to 
wild-rose petals. Ben Jonson’s lines, Oh, so white, 
oh, so sweet, oh, so soft is she ! might have been writ- 
ten to Judith Gilderdale. But it was a hot-house com- 
plexion on which the rough winds of heaven had never 
blown, and Redway's inward comment as her slim 
hands presently struck the opening chords of the quar- 
tet with a soft uncertain touch, was that she was only 
half alive. 

As the quartet proceeded on its intricate way, his 
critical faculty was gauging the quality of the per- 
formers and placing them all three. Sir Hervey was 
good, very good, quite above the amateur standard; 
Miss Fane a little wanting in tone perhaps, and oc- 
casionally slack in the uptake, but well trained and 
with perfect intonation. As to Lady Gilderdale, he 
shrugged his shoulders behind the backs of the play- 
ers, and said to himself : ‘‘ Hopelessly amateurish ! 
Yet, oddly enough, it was she, Roger felt, who was 
weighing him in the balance and finding him wanting, 
though he knew his playing was unimpeachable. His 
fingers itched for possession of that Amati, lying 
bedded in velvet in the Italian cabinet. Why did such 
things always go to those who could not use them? 
He felt that his bowing would have coaxed a mellow 
tone out of it that would have interpreted him differ- 
ently. Yet was it altogether the fault of his old fiddle 
that his tone sounded thin and hard ? Was it possible 
that he had been losing ground — that without know- 
ing it he had been parting with some of that magic 
that used to be his? He listened to himself as he 
fancied Lady Gilderdale was listening, and he grew 
uneasy. Behind the veneer of self-confidence that was 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


105 


always such a stay to him, lurked the true musician’s 
sensitiveness to atmosphere. Your fiddler is like your 
conjuror: he can work no miracles without faith. 
What right had a woman who could not play a page 
up to time without faltering, to whom every hitch that 
occurred was invariably brought home — what right 
had she, pray, to sit in judgment and appraise him 
at a lower value than he set upon himself ? 

It was strange how he knew it, but he did know it, 
and it made him uneasily self-assertive. He pounced 
down inexorably where tact might have glided easily 
over a defective passage, seeing how nervous the pian- 
ist was. Nothing should pass on her side, he was re- 
solved. The wild-rose tint on her cheek deepened to 
damask, and Sir Hervey grew impatient, but she went 
valiantly on. At the end, while the violinist was lay- 
ing his instrument in its case. Sir Hervey remarked : 

“ I think it would be better if Mr. Redway would 
bring a professional accompanist next time; what say 
you, Judith? I was afraid it seemed rather too much 
for you.” 

Lady Gilderdale was still sitting before the piano, 
her hands lying lightly on the keys, touching here and 
there a soft chord. 

If you wish it, certainly ; but next time I shall 
understand better what is required of me — I shall have 
practised.” 

Redway was smitten with compunction. He knew 
he had not been fair to her ; that he had taken a kind 
of vindictive pleasure in bullying this stately-looking 
woman from whom he could wring no tribute. 

“ Rheinberger is by no means easy to read,” he said. 

If it does not trouble Lady Gilderdale too much. 


lo6 THE HARP OF LIFE. 

and she would do me the favour to accompany us, I 
am sure another time it will all go more smoothly/’ 
And therewith he bowed himself away. 

I don’t think I like your fiddler much, Hervey,” 
said Clemency Fane when he was gone, putting her 
chin down on her viola, and playing some runs. “ Do 
you, Judith? — But I am sure you don’t; he was quite 
rude to you. He is awfully vain, you could see.” 

Not vain — conceited perhaps.” 

My dear Hervey, what do you mean ? A distinc- 
tion without a difference.” 

Not at all. Vanity implies a mistaken estimate — 
nothing behind the pretension ; conceit, a good notion 
of what is really there.” 

How fond you are of paradoxes ! You think him 
a good player, then?” 

An admirable player — sound and thorough, abso- 
lutely competent. Knowles was a fool to quarrel with 
him. Still, many kings do not care for too good a 
prime minister.” 

Well, I freely own that it does not appeal to me, 
though of course I acknowledge its goodness; the 
way he grasped those big chords was really masterly. 
Now, Judith, confess you did not like him, for I know 
you did not.” 

Judith smiled a little: she did not choose to run 
him down because he had given her a rough time. 

I think I did partly ; his playing is wholesome and 
strong, though it has its limitations. It put me in 
mind of a sentence in Lanier’s ‘ Poet’s Musical Im- 
pressions ’ — Ah, here it is.” She was turning over the 
leaves of a magazine in search of an article that had 
pleased her. ‘‘Listen, Hervey: ‘While he has taste 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


107 


enough to like the best music, yet there is a certain 
something — a flame, a sentiment, a spark kindled by 
the stroke of a soul against sorrow, as of steel against 
flint — which he hath not, and the want of which will 
for ever keep him from penetrating into the deepest of 
music/ For ever — I don’t know about that, though.” 

‘‘ I sometimes wonder, Judith,” said her husband, 
whether the things you say are insight or fancy. I 
thought him simply a first-rate professional — no 
more.” 

Professional, oh yes ; and he thought us trifling 
amateurs.” 

‘‘ Professional,” caught up Clemency, yes, and that 
ought to mean — ” 

“ Ah,” interrupted Sir Hervey, professionals are 
of two sorts : those who live by Music, and those who 
live for her.” 

‘‘ Dealers in a certain commodity, or priests of a cer- 
tain mystery,” added his wife. 

'‘And our friend belongs decidedly to the former 
category,” cried Clemency. " His music is to be 
bought for money; he makes a merchandise of his 
finest feelings — if he has any. You know I always 
have a wild impracticable idea that music ought never 
to be a marketable commodity.” 

" And how, pray, in that case are poor fiddlers to 
live?” laughed Lady Gilderdale. 

" Oh, there ought to be an endowment, or a patron, 
or some such arrangement.” 

" Which would come to much the same thing in the 
end. In your socialist state, my dear Clemency, 
when you establish it, perhaps you will be able to 
arrange it so, but in this imperfect world I think I 


io8 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


would sooner dispense with the poor amateur than 
with the professional/’ 

'' Ah/’ said Sir Hervey, what would I not give to 
have been obliged to fiddle for my bread when I was 
a youngster ! That brings out the grit that is in a man. 
With all my opportunities of hearing the best, with 
all my leisure, and all my love for it, a fellow like that 
can put me to shame.” 

Clemency sat down in the window-seat, and took 
up a piece of tapestry she was at work upon. You 
undervalue yourself, Hervey,” she said. He may be 
admirable and excellent, and everything of that sort, 
and he certainly tramples us under his feet; but for 
poetry and passion and insight into the magic of Schu- 
mann and Raff, I believe you and I, contemptible 
amateurs as we are, are far ahead.” 

Meanwhile Em was cross-examining her husband 
about his experiences. 

‘‘ Well, what is the enchanted castle like when you 
are inside ? ” she asked. 

Like an Italian palazzo and a college chapel, and 
everything that is most unlike Pinecliff.” 

‘‘ And the people? ” 

‘‘ Rather mediaeval and unreal. I thought when I 
arrived they looked like a small party of family ghosts, 
sitting among the shadows. And their voices are so 
low, they make you feel as if you were in church.” 

‘‘And how do they play?” 

“ Sir Hervey and Miss Fane remarkably well ; her 
Ladyship not up to much. Somehow I fancy they 
will tire of it soon, and it will all fade away.” 

“ Meantime,” said Em, “ I have got a fresh engage- 
ment too — a much more satisfactory one than yours 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


109 

promises to be. Fancy! Mrs. Temple-Smith wants 
singing lessons, and came to me.’' 

Mrs. Temple-Smith? Why, who is she? ” 

‘‘ Don’t you know, you ignorant boy ? That comes 
of never reading anything. Mrs. Temple-Smith is a 
personage.” 

Well, I am not much the wiser. What sort of per- 
sonage ? ” 

She is a novelist — the novelist of the day. Her 
books are revolutionising society. Surely you must 
have heard of her ^ Queen or Slave ’ that every one 
was talking about.” 

Do you mean she wrote that ? Disgusting rot, I 
call it.” 

She is the most cultivated woman ! ” cried Em 
with some indignation ; ‘‘ one of those wonderful 

people who can do anything. She painted for some 
years at Julien’s studio in Paris; then she took up 
sculpture; now she has a craze for music, and by great 
good luck some one mentioned me to her. She has 
just been to call and settle about terms. She is a 
splendid woman — so beautifully dressed! Sometimes 
those clever, writing people don’t care how they look, 
but she has quite a style of her own ; she is like a 
picture.” 

H’m ! ” said Roger unsympathetically. A 
widow, I suppose? ” 

No, I don’t think so ; I imagine she is separated 
from her husband. I believe she went through the 
most awful experiences, and that is what made her 
take up her present line.” 

I must say I don’t admire her present line, and I 


no 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


would rather you did not have more to do with her 
than you can help. Do you see ? 

Em laid down her work and looked up at him 
sharply. 

Do you mean to say you expect to dictate to me 
who I am to make friends with, as though I were a 
girl in the schoolroom ? I take the liberty of think- 
ing that I am at least as good a judge as you.’’ 

‘‘ You are a lot cleverer than I am, I admit, and 
read more ; all the same, there are things that a man 
knows better than a woman, and this is one of them.” 

Em took up her work again, and spoke playfully, 
almost mockingly. 

‘‘ My dear, you are quite behind the times. This 
sort of thing is quite gone out, I assure you. I don’t 
interfere with your engagements, and I expect you not 
to interfere with mine.” 

Well, I suppose if you have promised to give her 
lessons, you cannot very well get out of it ; but I 
wish you had not had the introduction. Don’t get 
more intimate with her than you can help.” 

How can you be so narrow-minded ? I feel very 
much for her. She has been subjected to the most 
odious and unjust persecution for her views. If she 
does write things that Mr. Podsnap would not put 
into the hands of ‘ the young person,’ she does it from 
the loftiest motives.” 

Then I wish her lofty motives would keep them- 
selves to themselves.” 

Em was just leaving the room, but turned back to 
say over her shoulder : By the way, do you know 
she is a cousin of your wonderful ghosts at Trister- 
wood ? ” 


XL 


Certainly Betty was a very tiresome little girl. At 
an age when other babies spend their time discreetly 
in sleeping and growing fat, she was cantering about 
on unsteady legs, pitching -on her nose on the slightest 
provocation, clawing at everything within reach, and 
investigating every foreign substance with her ever- 
inquisitive tongue ; chattering too, with amazing 
fluency, in a language no mortal could understand. 
In crawling, toddling, clambering, and, it must be 
added, in mischief, she was as forward as a monkey, 
but as to filling out and growing plump and round, 
as a well-conducted infant should, she never gave her- 
self time to do anything of the sort. From five o’clock 
in the morning till she was tucked into her crib at 
night she gave neither mother nor nurse any peace. 

Her father was well pleased with her antics ; that 
she should be so small, made them all the funnier ; 
he used to call her his ‘‘pocket Venus,” and quoted 
in her defence all the old saws about “ best goods in 
smallest parcels,” and “ Small herbs have grace : 111 
weeds grow apace ” ; but she certainly was a weird 
little atom, and Em regarded her with much disap- 
proval. 

One morning it chanced, as it usually does at the 
most inconvenient moments, that the nurse had de- 
manded — ^in these days one can hardly say requested 
— a holiday, so Em found herself unwillingly placed 


111 


II2 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


in command. She was obliged to put off a lesson or 
two, but promised herself to occupy her morning in 
practising for a concert which her new pupil, Mrs. 
Temple-Smith, was getting up, and thought she 
might do a good deal in the intervals of dancing at- 
tendance on Miss Betty, though the latter’s require- 
ments seemed to be endless. The mysteries of the 
nursery-toilet having at length been got through, 
Em plumped her daughter down on the hearth-rug 
in the drawing-room, with her favourite toys about 
her, and, opening the piano, began the soprano solo 
which she was to take in the Cantata. 

For a few minutes all went well : Betty liked music, 
and danced her dolly up and down to it ; but pres- 
ently it occurred to her that she should like to bear a 
part herself, so she toddled rapidly forward, clutching 
at the keyboard to save herself from falling, with most 
inharmonious effect, just as her mother was accom- 
plishing a bravura passage of some difficulty. 

Betty, having been well slapped and shaken, was 
carried back to the hearth-rug and seated there with 
an emphasis intended to convey to her small mind 
that she was expected to take root. She never cried 
long, so Em returned to her studies and soon got into 
the swing of her part again, but only to find herself 
pulled up by fresh excursions and alarums. She was 
of an inventive turn, however, and by the time the 
baby had pulled all the legs and arms off her dolly, 
thrust the broken neck of her headless gee-gee 
through the lower panels of the Japanese screen, 
dragged a bowl of flowers over on the top of her, and 
had a narrow escape with the ink, she had hit upon a 
plan for securing a little peace. It was a very fine 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I13 

morning : Betty would be far better in the garden, 
and with one end of a long sash-ribbon secured to her 
waist, and the other made fast to a mountain-ash 
which grew in the hedge dividing their small gar- 
den-plot from their neighbours, she could hardly get 
into much mischief. Such flowers as she could reach 
she was welcome to, and as to the dirt — well, both 
Betty and her pinafore would wash later on. 

So Em sang away to her heart’s content. When 
she had finished the Cantata, there was a batch of 
new songs which Roger had brought her the other 
day, and which she had never found time to try over. 
She completely forgot the baby, and her high clear 
voice effectually drowned the wailings that by and 
by arose from the garden — in her own ears, that is : 
Miss Meabury, sitting at needlework in her bow win- 
dow next door, heard shrieks and tried to peep 
through the hedge to discover whether the sounds 
proceeded from the garden or the open windows of 
the house. Presently she called Miss Alicia. 

Sister,” she said, something must be the matter 
with that child. They really ought not to let it scream 
like that.” 

It is a very naughty ill-tempered brat,” said Miss 
Lishy. ^'That is nothing but temper. Pm sure — ” as 
a hoarse screech almost drowned her voice. If it 
was my child — ” 

I am sure something is wrong ; it sounds as if it 
were out of doors. It can’t have fallen out of win- 
dow, can it? I shall run up-stairs and try and see into 
their garden.” 

Up-stairs she went, and by craning her neck far 
out, could just perceive a blue ribbon tied round the 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


1 14 

trunk of the mountain-ash, the other end of which ap- 
peared to be fastened to a bundle of clothes that 
dangled half-way down the small area in front of the 
kitchen window. Presently she distinguished the 
convulsive kicking of a wee pair of blue shoes 
amongst the white petticoats. Clearly the bundle was 
neither more nor less than the baby upside down. She 
flew to the rescue. 

'' I must go in and pick her up ! she cried to the 
detaining Alicia. 

Caroline, pray remember that Mrs. Redway has 
not called.’’ 

Alicia, I am not going to call on Mrs. Redway ; 
I am simply going to rescue that unfortunate infant, 
if not too late.” 

While she spoke, she was thrusting her feet into the 
goloshes without which she never stirred abroad. 

Betty, it appeared, had been furnished with a soft 
ball as the toy least likely to inflict damage upon her, 
and had been tied, her mother imagined, at a safe dis- 
tance from the area ; but the ball, with the usual per- 
versity of inanimate things, had taken the first oppor- 
tunity to roll over into the abyss, whither baby of 
course pursued it. The sash gave to a certain extent, 
but pulled her up short just as she toppled over the 
edge ; so there she hung suspended, a yard or so out 
of reach of her desired treasure. If she had been a 
heavier child, the ribbon would probably have given 
way, with disastrous results; but it was in a strong 
knot, and the baby was as light as a feather, so she 
dangled in comparative safety, kicking and screaming 
lustily. 

At the moment that Miss Meabury arrived on the 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


I15 

scene, followed by Miss Lishy, who, though protest- 
ing, thought she might as well assist, a bicycle whirled 
up to the gate, and Redway himself was off it and up 
the garden in two bounds, in time to see his daughter, 
very red in the face, in Miss Meabury's arms, trying 
to scratch Miss Alicia, who was struggling with the 
refractory knot of ribbon. 

What has happened ? ’’ he cried, snatching Betty, 
and finding to his surprise that he was pulling up the 
mountain-ash by the roots. Is the child hurt ? How 
on earth came she to be tied into this tree ? 

We must apologise for this intrusion,"’ began 
Miss Meabury in her formal voice. ‘‘We should never 
have thought of venturing into the garden, but the 
poor little dear cried so loud, we were convinced some 
accident must have occurred.” 

“ Accident ! She could not have got tied in this 
knot by accident. It is some wanton, cruel mischief. 
I can’t imagine who could have done anything so 
spiteful to a little child.” 

He had whipped out a knife and slashed through 
the ribbon ruthlessly. 

“ Dear, dear ! ” cried Miss Lishy, “ what a pity ! 
Such a lovely silk ribbon. What will Mrs. Redway 
say ? I am sure I could have disentangled it with a 
little patience.” 

“ Patience ! ” said Roger between his teeth, “ I 
don’t think it is a case for patience. The child might 
have screamed herself into a fit. Where on earth 
can her mother have been, not to hear her ? ” 

He was too much excited to notice the sounds of 
singing, but the sisters exchanged a glance. 

“ I don’t think Mrs. Redway is far off,” observed 


Ii6 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Miss Alicia, as the high, clear notes of ‘‘ Pur Dicesti 
floated out from the open window. 

It must have been one of those abominable girls,'' 
he went on. The child's nurse is away, and the 
other servant must have tied the little thing up to 
keep her out of the way. She shan't stay another 
hour in the house : it is absolutely brutal." 

‘‘ In a few minutes more the dear child would have 
been killed," remarked Miss Meabury solemnly. 

She was hanging right over the aperture when we 
found her, only suspended by a ribbon. If the knot 
had not been most securely attached, I tremble to 
think what the result might have been." 

Nothing less could have justified our interfer- 
ence," protested Miss Alicia. Our proper course 
would nO' doubt have been to ring the bell and send a 
message in to Mrs. Redway, but we could not leave 
the infant a moment longer in such a position." 

Now, Betty, say ‘ Ta ' to these kind ladies who 
came and helped you," he said. But Betty, unmind- 
ful of past perils, was now clamouring to get down 
and make another attempt on the pit whence she had 
escaped, in pursuit of her beloved ball. She was like 
her mother in wanting whatever happened to be out 
of reach, and Roger had to jump down and get it for 
her before she would be pacified. 

Won't you come in, and let Mrs. Redway thank 
you for your kindness ? " he said as he clambered up 
again and resumed possession of Betty. '' We are 
most awfully obliged to you for coming to the res- 
cue." 

‘‘ Pray don’t mention it. Most happy, I am sure, 
to have been of service. No, I thank you, we will not 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


II7 

come in ; we could not think of intruding on Mrs. 
Redway at this early hour/’ 

'‘No doubt she is much engaged,” remarked Miss 
Lishy, " otherwise she must have heard the poor child 
screaming.” 

" Good-morning,” they both added in chorus. "We 
trust the dear baby will be none the worse for her 
little adventure.” 

" Caroline,” said the younger sister impressively, as 
they proceeded up the garden path to their own front 
door, " not having witnessed the occurrence with my 
own eyes, I would not mention my suspicions to Mr. 
Redway ; but it is my firm conviction that Mrs. Red- 
way tied up that unfortunate child herself.” 

Meanwhile Roger had dashed up-stairs and burst 
into the drawing-room like a hurricane. 

" Do stop that infernal singing ! ” he cried, " and 
attend to this poor child. If it had not been for those 
good ladies next door, she would have been killed.” 

" Good gracious ! ” cried Em, springing up. 
" What mischief has she been in now ? Here, give 
her to me. I never knew such a brat! You can’t take 
your eye off her for a second. I wish I had not let 
Ellen have a holiday ; but I suppose if I had refused, 
she would have given warning.” 

She was examining Betty’s injuries, which were 
slight : a tiny drop of blood on her cheek from a 
scratch, a little bruise, and a grazed hand were about 
the extent of them. 

" Well, there does not seem much damage done 
after all. What has she been doing? Tumbled down 
on the gravel, I suppose ; but I thought I had given 
her too short a line.” 


ii8 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Roger’s eyes blazed. You gave her ! — you ? Do 
you mean to say you had the brutality to tie a baby 
like that up to a tree as if she were a dog ? ” 

Em was astounded. That Roger, in whose eyes 
everything she did was perfection, who had nothing 
but fond playful rebukes for all her whims, should 
suddenly turn upon her and speak in that tone, was so 
astonishing that for the moment it took her breath 
away. 

I don’t know what you mean by using such a 
word to me,” she cried. “ I could not be worried with 
the child all the morning ; I had my work to attend 
to.” 

Your work ! ” he broke in. “ Your work is to 
look after your baby.” 

If you think I am going to turn myself into a do- 
mestic drudge, you are very much mistaken,” said 
Em angrily, still too much astonished at finding her- 
self taken to task, to be able to recover her usual easy 
philosophy. The child was perfectly safe ; she has 
a genius for getting into mischief.” 

Safe ! She had fallen into the area, and it was a 
mercy she had not broken her neck. If the Miss Mea- 
burys had not heard her, and run in, I don’t know 
what would have happened.” 

'' Interfering old cats ! I believe they made it all 
up. I am certain she could not have got to the area 
from where I tied her.” 

“ She did ; she was hanging right over, when I 
came : they were just hauling her up. You will have 
to call now, and thank them.” 

‘‘ I shall do nothing of the kind. I never asked 
them to com^ here meddling.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I19 

I don^t wonder you are ashamed to confess that it 
was you who tied her there. You may well be. How 
you could avoid hearing her scream I can’t conceive.” 

‘‘ Oh, I heard her, but I want to break her of that 
way she has got into of yelling whenever she is left 
alone. She must be taught to wait till she can be at- 
tended to.” 

Roger had taken the baby again, and was walking 
up and down the room with her, hushing her against 
his breast. Though not much hurt, she had been 
frightened and shaken, and was conscious, as babies 
and dogs in their ignorance often are, of an atmos- 
phere of anger and discomfort ; so she had continued 
to fret, but gradually, as she cuddled down against 
his shoulder, her little wailing noises quieted, and she 
began to suck her thumb. 

A baby not much more than a year old ! ” he 
said as he looked down at her, and such a little mite. 
How could you ? ” 

Emmie looked across the room at him, and a 
curious feeling to which she had hitherto been a 
stranger, suddenly contracted her heart. What had 
become of Roger’s devotion, which she had taken so 
entirely for granted, and found sO' boring ? Was it all 
lavished now on this tiresome scrap of a baby, whom 
she had never desired, who did her no credit, and gave 
her an infinite deal of trouble ? 

It is all very well for you,” she said, who come 
in from out of doors, to make all this fuss with the 
baby ; but if you had the bother of her all day long, 
you would soon tell a different story.” 


XII. 


Mrs. Temple-Smith did not number punctuality 
among her virtues. She was a woman who lay late 
in bed, and then contrived to get through an amount 
of business that would have amazed one of your 
methodical early risers ; but then her multifarious en- 
gagements, social and otherwise, were continually 
treading on each other’s heels and mutually devour- 
ing one another. This way of life wastes other peo- 
ple’s time considerably, and her singing-mistress 
often had to spend an hour or so of hers, waiting for 
her. Strange to say, Em did not resent it ; for the 
novelist was the idol of the hour. She liked being on 
terms of personal acquaintance with a writer of dis- 
tinction, whose name was in all men’s mouths, though 
the lady’s celebrity was due less to her intellectual 
capabilities than to the daring with which she handled 
questions which the collective wisdom of our fathers 
considered either settled or beyond the range of dis- 
cussion. Her audacity fascinated little Mrs. Redway, 
for whom the new was always the delightful, and who 
considered that the honour of being put to incon- 
venience by the author of Queen or Slave ” abun- 
dantly compensated for a wasted afternoon. 

So, finding herself alone at Mrs. Temple-Smjth’s 
rooms one day, she took possession of a rocking- 
chair, and contemplated her surroundings with an idea 
that she might utilise the opportunity by doing an 


120 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


I2I 


'"interview for Bertha’s paper, and wondering if she 
would get a guinea for it. Would she be found out, 
and get into a scrape? That was another question. 
She thought not; Mrs. Temple-Smith was not a 
woman who shunned publicity. Anyhow she might 
as well note details; they might come in useful. 

" ' Refined and luxurious surroundings ’ — that is 
what they always say,” she mused. "H’m! Luxu- 
rious perhaps, and practical; no drapings, awfully few 
ornaments, not many pictures. What a queer thing 
in the corner : a Holly er photo of a Watts, I sup- 
pose.” She rose and went nearer to examine it. And 
this rainbow-splash must be a French impressionist 
bit. What is it ? a waterfall ? Why, I declare it is 
a woman — a dancing girl ! I wonder if those clay 
models are her own ; they must be, I should think, 
for they are none of them finished. What should one 
say of them, I wonder ? ' Instinct with life ; freaks 
of genius, untrammelled by conventional rules,’ would 
about meet the case, I should think.” She went on a 
little further. "'No silver-table ; no Jappy things ; 
at least — yes, that is certainly a Japanese arrangemient 
of flowers in a brass bowl. I wish I had not so many 
knick-knacks in my room. I shall make a clean 
sweep.” 

" A regular man’s knee-hole study-table,” she went 
on, " and oh, what a pile of papers ! and the rubbish- 
basket overflowing on to the floor. The chairs, too, 
are rather mannish ; they are not particularly comfy 
unless you get right in and tuck your feet up ” — for 
Em was small. " They would suit long-legged peo- 
ple.” 

Her investigations had brought her by this time to 


122 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


the corner of the mantelpiece which bore the dis- 
tinctive note of the new woman in the shape of a box 
of cigarettes. She had just taken these in her hand 
and was examining them with an inquisitive little 
nose, when the sound of the door-handle turning 
caused her to set them down hastily, and drop into 
a chair with an innocent air of being absorbed in the 
Daily Mail, which she picked up. 

It was not, however, the mistress of the abode who 
entered, but another visitor, a young man whom Mrs. 
Redway knew very well by sight, and was not at all 
averse to making acquaintance with. Valentine Gar- 
cia was beginning to be talked about ; he was a 
pianist of brilliance and ability, a composer of many 
songs, and a forthcoming opera of his was being men- 
tioned in the circles of those who know everything. 
He had bad health — otherwise Pinecliff would hardly 
have been favoured with so much of his society, and 
he looked languid and nerveless. He had been ac- 
cused of an addiction to Hinders curlers, and he 
looked capable of it; not only the crepe appearance 
of his long thick hair, but the whole effeminate get-up, 
the tinted lips, the touched-in eyebrows, hinted at the 
practise of arts excusable in a woman who desired to 
hide the ravages of time — monstrous in a lad of three- 
and-twenty. 

He bowed, and sank gracefully into one of the deep 
chairs, in a lounging attitude. 

Portia is late,'' he remarked presently in a rather 
high and plaintive voice. One of his little affectations 
was always to talk of women by their Christian names. 

Portia always is late ; but I observe people are apt 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


123 

to think more of you if you keep them waiting. I 
suppose that is her principle.’’ 

Mrs. Redway laughed. ‘‘ That’s true,” she said. 

All the same I was just making up my mind to wait 
no longer. I think I must give it up and go home.” 

‘‘ Oh, don’t — just as I have come. That would be 
very unkind. Don’t you think I might be able to 
entertain you for another half-hour ? Besides I sup- 
pose you have come to tea, and it gives one a horrid 
sensation to go away with an unfulfilled tea.” 

No, I have come to sing with Mrs. Temple-Smith. 
I generally do stay to tea afterwards.” 

Ah, now I know ! I felt certain I had seen you 
before. I had the pleasure of hearing you sing at that 
charity affair in the spring, when I played my little 
Tarentelle. I know your husband. Need I introduce 
myself ? ” 

Quite unnecessary,” said Em politely. I think 
all musical Pinecliff knows Mr. Garcia.” 

‘‘ Thank you. How pretty of you ! Meanwhile 
shall we solace ourselves ? ” He came round and took 
the cigarette-case from the mantelpiece and handed it 
to her. Em did not care much for smoking, but she 
knew how to play at it without making herself sick : 
so she took one, and displayed a marvellously pretty 
hand and wrist as she lighted it. She laughed within 
herself as she wondered what her usual style of de- 
corous pupils would think if they saw her. Mrs. Tem- 
ple-Smith, she knew, rather preferred her friends to 
take liberties than otherwise ; she need not fear her 
being offended if she came in. 

In a few minutes she arrived. ^'Ah, there you 
both are — ^consoling each other for my absence ! ” she 


124 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


cried, as she kissed Em. She was very effusive with 
other women — at least if she liked them ; if she did 
not, she never scrupled to let them know it. 

Without being handsome, she was rather an effect- 
ive woman : pale, with large light prominent eyes, 
and loosely arranged, fluffy hair ; very restless, for- 
ever moving head or hands. 

Val,"" she said, I suppose you have introduced 
yourselves and discovered that this is my little night- 
ingale. After tea she shall sing to you if you are good. 
I have been so driven all day, dear,’’ she added to Em, 
that I really am not fit for a lesson ; you shall sing 
to us instead, if you don’t mind.” 

Would you like me to pour out the tea for you ? ” 
said Emmie, as the tea-things and the little spirit- 
kettle made their appearance. 

‘‘ Do, dear ; I like my friends to make themselves 
useful, as Val knows. He always arranges my flowers 
for me.” 

‘‘Ah, it needs a drone to arrange flowers. You 
busy women who have your professions and your 
careers, and what not, have less and less time for it, 
and it needs more and more. We no longer cut a 
handful of roses and thrust them into a glass. Would 
you believe it took me an hour and ten minutes this 
morning to arrange that white iris and branch of 
weigelia ? ” 

“ They are perfectly lovely ! ” cried Em with en- 
thusiasm. “ I was wondering how in the world they 
were coaxed to stand up like that.” 

“ Ah, that is a trade secret. I took lessons last 
autumn. There is a man in a tiny little shop just off 
Bond Street who gives regular lessons ; he took them 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


1^5 


himself in Yokohama. There were a series of articles 
in the Studio a year or two back, professing to describe 
how it is done, but that is not enough; you require 
to study the touch."’ 

‘‘ I wonder you can find time for it; for I am sure 
you cannot call yourself a drone, Mr. Garcia, playing 
as you do.” 

Oh, that is nothing. I assure you it costs me in- 
finitely more thought and toil to keep Portia’s vases 
decent. Would you believe it, when I first knew her, 
she had a tumbler of dead sweet-peas — positively dead 
— upon her writing-table ! ” 

‘‘ Now, Val, make yourself useful and hand the 
muffins, and don’t talk nonsense. I am bent on letting 
you hear Mrs. Redway sing, for I want you to com- 
pose something expressly for her. You know I am 
getting up a concert for the inauguration of the Pine- 
cliff branch of my Pioneers, and her singing is to be 
the great feature. We are to have a cantata first, in 
which I shall take the contralto solo and she the so- 
prano, and then I shall have a miscellaneous pro- 
gramme for the second part. Do write me something 
original.” 

Garcia stirred his tea slowly and looked doubtful. 

I can’t write to order,” he said. I am a poor crea- 
ture — a mere instrument. I don’t write my songs; 
they write me.” 

“ Well, I promise one will ^ write you ’ when you 
hear Rose Alba sing, if you give it the chance.” 

Em was on her mettle. To be held up as an inspira- 
tion by one celebrity to another, and that other the 
composer of '' Wood-notes Wild,” went to her head 
with a species of intoxication, and she sang with an 


126 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


entrain that she rarely knew. This was Art ; this was 
living; this was something very different from the 
little narrow life in the little semi-detached villa to 
which Roger^s obstinacy in not letting her go on the 
stage condemned her. She sighed for emancipation. 
Perhaps these two new acquaintances could help her 
to what she craved. Her clear flute-like notes rose 
and thrilled in those runs and Horituri that she could 
never get Roger to appreciate. 

When she ceased, her auditor clapped his hands 
gently. ‘‘ You really ought to sing in operetta, Mrs. 
Redway,’’ he remarked. That is your genre 

Em blushed and dimpled with pleasure. That is 
just what I always long to do,” she said; ‘‘ but there 
are difficulties. You see I should have to live in town, 
and then I suppose it would not be easy to get an en- 
gagement unless one was in the swim.” 

“ But I suppose your husband is in touch with all 
the musical world? ” 

‘‘ Oh, my husband ! ” said Em with a little moue; 
he thinks my business is to stay at home and mind 
the baby.” 

Mrs. Temple-Smith’s eyes flashed a sympathetic 
look into Em’s. Oh, you must not give in to that,” 
she said. Val is the person to help you to an en- 
gagement; he knows all the impresarios and directors 
in town. When I make my debut I shall certainly 
look to him. Val, you really ought to write an 
operetta expressly to suit Mrs. Redway, and I will 
find the libretto. What say you? ” 

‘‘ What my old nurse used to say when I wanted 
her to make sails for my boat — ‘ when I have nothing 
else to do and can’t sleep.’ My dear Portia, I am 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


127 


simply overwhelmed with work. There is my Con- 
certo promised for October, and only half done, and 
my Opera cries aloud to be gone on with, and I am too 
lazy to touch it. I might throw off a song or two some 
time perhaps. Mrs. Redway, I have one bit of advice 
for you — 

‘^ Gather ye roses while ye may; 

Old Time will still be flying. 

You see I preach what I don’t practise ; but voices are 
like tides, and must be taken at the flood if they are 
to lead on to fortune.” 

Em leaned back in her chair and an ugly look came 
over her fair face. 

Ah,” she said, “ if I could have my way ! But Mr. 
Redway is so unenterprising ; he says he has made his 
connection and got his footing here, and he will not 
throw it up and try town, though I tell him if I once 
got an engagement I should very likely make double 
what he does.” 

Ah, my dear,” said Mrs. Temple-Smith, “ there 
you see the instinctive jealousy of men coming out. 
Except the idle and worthless ones, they can none of 
them bear that their wives should earn more than they 
do. No doubt they are afraid if we should, they would 
no longer be able to keep their feet upon our necks.” 

Now, Portia, if you are going to trample on the 
despised sex, I shall depart and leave you and Mrs. 
Redway to have it all your own way,” said Garcia 
rising. But you know,” he added, turning to Em, 
sorry as I am to disturb your rose-coloured picture, 
not even I, who am credited with occult powers behind 


128 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


the scenes, could get you an engagement to sing a 
leading part in town straight away. You would have 
to serve your apprenticeship with small parts in a 
touring company, and work your way up; it is the 
only way to begin.’' 

“ Then I never shall begin, for my husband would 
not hear of my travelling about without him.” 

“ There again ! ” said Mrs. Temple-Smith. As I 
always tell all you young people, husbands are a mis- 
take; but you are all so headstrong. There is my 
secretary, a really valuable little woman, a treasure to 
me till she thought fit to throw herself away ; she 
would not listen to reason.” 

Garcia groaned. There you go, Portia! Charles 
the First’s head again. Ta ta; I’m off.” 

Mrs. Temple-Smith followed him into the passage. 

‘‘Just tell me what you think of her, Val, before 
you go.” 

“ Oh, a very pretty little voice, very flexible and 
wonderfully well trained ; but no soul, no soul ! ” And 
he sighed himself away. 

She re-entered the room. “ Don’t go yet,” she said, 
seeing Emmie was beginning to put her gloves on. 
She sat down beside her on an ottoman and looked 
at her fixedly for a minute or two with her large light 
eyes. Then she said slowly: 

“ My dear child, you are not happy ; I can see it.” 

The resentment Em had been nursing ever since the 
unlucky result of her experiment in baby-minding 
surged up, and forced something very like a sob into 
her throat, though she was by no means a tearfully in- 
clined woman. She swallowed it down, and looked 
at her friend half fascinated. Something in Portia 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


129 

Temple-Smith's gaze seemed to compel her to regard 
herself in the light she regarded her. 

Happy? No. How can one be happy, when one 
feels all one's powers wasted and rusting? When one 
is being turned into a mere domestic machine? " 

Ah," said Portia, drawing a long breath, I al- 
ways felt somehow that you were one of us, and that 
was why I was so drawn to you from the first." 

You know," said Em looking up into her face, 
your books were a revelation to me. I could never, 
never tell you how much I owe you." 

The elder woman bent forward and impulsively 
kissed her. 

Just now," pursued Em, what you were saying 
about girls being so foolish to marry in such a hurry 
went so home to me. Why, why are we such 
idiots ? " 

Ah, why indeed? Because no one warns us, and 
we dread the sneer of a foolish world at ‘ old maids.' — 
But there are no old maids nowadays." 

I suppose, like so many silly girls, I wanted the 
credit of getting married before my sisters. Because 
I was the prettiest I thought I ought to go off first, 
as people say. Ah, what nonsense it all is ! And there 
are they all three working for themselves, and leading 
such jolly free lives — no cares, no children, no 
bothers." 

“ What right," cried Portia in her tragic tones, 
have our families to drive us into the marriage- 
market like slaves to the dealers ? " 

Oh, I wasn't driven by my own family," said Em 
candidly ; 'Mf I had been, most likely I should not 
have done it in such a hurry. I never would do what 


130 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I was bid, all my life. I was quite independent, but 
Roger was so overwhelmingly in earnest and whirled 
me on so, I had no time to realise my own feelings. 
And just then I had got into rather a tight place with 
my singing, and fancied I wanted some one to help 
me, and so you see — 

‘‘ And now you realise what you have done. Poor 
child 

‘‘ The life altogether is so different from what I had 
fancied. I thought marrying a musician would have 
helped, not hindered me; but he doesn’t think any- 
thing of my music — he is so taken up with his own. 
When we were engaged, he made such a fuss with 
me, I thought I should always have my own way, and 
now he won’t do a single thing I want.” 

Now he shows himself in his true colours. Is he 
cruel to you, dear?” 

‘‘ No, oh no; he means to be very kind; but he is 
so domineering, so hectoring. He expects me to 
spend all my time in the nursery, fiddling over Betty 
and her clothes, or else he wants me to do things for 
him. He never seems to realise that I have a life of 
my own or any interests but his.” 

‘‘ Ah, my love, yours is but the common lot. But 
for that very reason ” — as she saw Em’s face fall — 
‘‘ for that very reason I take the deeper interest in you. 
Dear child, what would I not give to emancipate you ! 
But it will come some day ; it will come some day.” 

Em looked puzzled and a little startled, and Mrs. 
Temple-Smith went on: 

'' Some day we shall have shaken ourselves free from 
the trammels of an outworn convention. Men and 
women will be free to enter into and break off at will 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


131 

such alliances as seem good to them. Even the self- 
ishness of men will be cured, for they will have learnt 
their lesson; they will no longer be able to treat us 
as chattels."’ 

The neophyte looked a little doubtful, and her 
prophetess shook her head at her. Ah, Mrs. Red- 
way,” she said, open-minded as you are, advanced 
on many points, I can see that you have been bred up 
in the Philistinism of the British public: the gods of 
the Philistines are still your gods, and you are fright- 
ened to see me cast them down from their high 
places.” 

Em could not stand that reproach. No, no, I 
honour you ! ” she cried ; only I don’t see quite — I 
mean while the laws are what they are, there seems 
nothing to be done.” 

Most true. But what alters bad laws ? Public 
opinion. And what creates public opinion? The 
courageous action of the few. If those who are higher- 
souled than their sisters will but have the courage of 
their convictions, and refuse to hold themselves bound 
by vows taken in ignorance, public opinion will pres- 
ently come round to their side, and applaud them in- 
stead of hounding them down.” 

Em went home with her mind seething in a tumult 
of new ideas. The beauty of revolt, the duty of cultivat- 
ing one’s own individuality at any cost, are the idols 
of the market-place to-day. She fancied it was an 
original cult she was adopting, nor knew she was 
shouting with the crowd just as much as those who 
sing in the chorus of conventionality ; only it was 
a somewhat newer cry. 

That singing lesson was a fair sample of the course 


132 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


she gave Mrs. Temple-Smith. Sometimes they sang, 
sometimes not; very often the whole hour passed in 
discussion. Occasionally Valentine Garcia assisted, 
and now and then he brought a new song of his own 
composition for her to try. He thought but little of 
her musical capacity, but appreciated her charm, 
though it affected him less strongly than the command- 
ing personality of Portia Temple-Smith. The relation 
between him and that lady rather puzzled Em : there 
was little or nothing of flirtation about it ; it was too 
stationary and of too long standing for anything of 
that kind. He seemed to be an exception to Portia^s 
usual sweeping condemnation of mankind — perhaps 
because he was so effeminate. 

Mrs. Redway made herself very useful to the idol, 
and even mastered typewriting on a Remington, that 
she might be able to perform — unpaid — some of the 
duties of the recusant secretary, who had, in Mrs. 
Temple-Smith’s phrase, put her hand to the plough 
and looked back. She copied an infinite number of 
articles upon burning topics, which were expected to 
overturn the laws of the country, if not those of Na- 
ture, and she gloried in the task. 

Redway never interfered. In fact he knew nothing 
about it. Since his wife was bent on employing her- 
self, he let her, though he would far rather have 
worked for her. To do Em justice, her house was al- 
ways properly looked after, and Betty too, now her 
nurse-maid had come back; and he was getting too 
busy with more lessons on his hands than he knew 
what to do with, to have time to miss his wife’s com- 
pany as he would have done a year ago. 


XIIL 


Hervey, come here and look at the exact likeness 
of your fiddler/" 

Lady Gilderdale was standing at the open window 
of the dining-room, throwing crumbs on to the terrace 
for the birds. Sir Hervey did not need to ask Where? 
or Which? as he came and stood beside her, smiling 
at the blackbird that had taken up his position on the 
balustrade, and was pouring forth the lavish beauty 
of his song with a certain joyous satisfaction in 
achievement, expressed in every feather of his glossy 
plumage and in the sparkle of his eye, which was fixed 
upon his auditors, not timidly but as though asking 
applause. 

He carries his beak very much as Mr. Redway 
does his nose,"" she remarked. 

I think you are a little hard upon my blackbird, 
you and Clemency both; a little inclined to set your 
amateurish sentiment against his trained knowledge 
and capacity. If he is conceited, I submit he has a 
good right to be. Besides, in his profession it is a 
valuable quality and helps him to force himself on."" 

“ Yes, I know. Yet in some directions it may keep 
him back. I don"t think he has quite realised that 
there are heights he has not climbed to, depths he has 
not plumbed."" 

That will come. There is life-blood in him. He 
does me good; the vigour of him braces me like a 


133 


134 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


fresh wind. There is nothing wishy-washy about 
him.’^ 

Clemency was still dawdling over her breakfast. 

Wishy-washy, no : but I think one might have a little 
more poetry without sacrificing strength. Besides he 
snubs me, which I don't like. Why didn’t you try and 
get Paul Fechter? ” 

My dear girl, Paul Fechter would not have come. 
I daresay he would have said he would, for he is good- 
nature itself, but nine times out of ten when we wanted 
him he would have forgotten all about us ; and when 
we did get him he would not have patiently ground us 
through our parts. There is a considerable dash of 
the amateur in Paul.” 

Of the genius, you mean — erratic, not to be 
counted on nor pinned down to the ordinary engage- 
ments of every-day life ; but when you do get him — 
She ended with an expressive pause. 

Ah ! ” said Judith, turning round from the win- 
dow, ** when you see him standing up before you with 
his snow-white hair and his cherubic face, and that 
divine Strad. tucked under his chin, you feel that you 
are going to be taken up to heaven straight.” 

‘"And when will Redway take you there?” put in 
Miss Fane. 

“ That is not fair,” said Sir Hervey. “ I grant you 
his playing may not have the seraphic qualities that set 
our Paul among the angels, but it is intensely human, 
virile, vital.” 

“ To my mind it wants feeling.” 

“ Well, that depends on what you mean. Senti- 
ment, the facile expression that utters itself in die- 
away softenings, may be lacking, but I find in him a 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


135 


range of sensations that goes much further; not love 
and longing merely, but the joy of existence, the pride 
of life, a hundred things that your sentimentalists 
never give you — all expressed with a breadth of con- 
ception that comes from nothing but a fundamental 
grip of his art and its capabilities. He may still have 
much to learn, but the strongest souls have most.’' 

Oh, Hervey,” cried Miss Fane, you hear your 
own fancies when he plays.” 

Can one hear anything that is not there ? ” mused 
Judith. She was still standing by the window watch- 
ing her birds. “ Though if one is soul-deaf one may 
miss what is. Sometimes I fail to find the expression 
1 look for, and then am astonished at the revelation of 
something I had not known was in the music till he 
put it there. I think there is a good deal more in him 
than comes out. Have you noticed, he always looks 
brimming over with things to say, but he never says 
them? I wonder if he is as silent in private life as he 
is with us.” 

He certainly knows how to hold his tongue,” re- 
marked Sir Hervey ; and as my sage mother used to 
say : ^ If you can hold your tongue you can hold 

anything.’ I was immensely amused the other day. 
Clemency, when you were trying to pump him about 
the Palm-house and why he left ; what a wall of ada- 
mant he turned against your battery. He will never 
give himself away.” 

I believe Cleijiency was rather affronted,” laughed 
Lady Gilderdale. He certainly was curt.” 

Well,” said Miss Fane, I do think when one was 
good enough to show a little interest in him, the least 
he could do was to respond gratefully.” 


136 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I fancy you may have been on delicate ground. 
Wasn’t there a rumour that Mr. Knowles wanted to 
marry Rose Alba, who is now Mrs. Redway? ” 

'' Ah, that reminds me,” said Sir Hervey, I was 
asking him about engaging a singer if we should give 
a music-party in the autumn, and he mentioned that 
his wife was open to engagements. I wonder if she 
is good.” 

‘‘ Oh, don’t you remember? ” said Clemency, we 
heard her a year or two ago at the Palm-house. A 
very pretty little woman; you compared her to a 
Greuze. Portia Temple-Smith was speaking of her 
the other day. She is having singing lessons of her 
and raves about her style.” 

Portia’s ravings would not go for much with me, 
but I do remember : a very light voice, but a charm- 
ing style. Let us have her by all means.” 

As may be gathered, the practices at Tristerwood 
had been going on steadily through the summer. 
Though Roger Redway had not quite gained the 
suffrages of the three amateurs, his vigorous person- 
ality was telling on them all. Miss Fane, who was 
accustomed to unbounded admiration for powers cer- 
tainly above the average, resented his outspoken crit- 
icisms and his brusque manner, but Sir Hervey 
appreciated the compliment of being measured by 
professional standards, even if it involved a strain to 
keep up to them. On his languid chilly temperament 
Roger’s vitality acted like a tonic. Music had always 
been to him the chief solace of a narrowed, semi-in- 
valid existence ; under the new influence it was grow- . 
ing to a passion. It was almost the only thing he 
cared much for; shy and proud, a martyr to asthma 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


137 


and disappointed in his dearest ambition, he went 
hardly at all into society. During the long years of 
his wife’s illness they had quite given up entertaining 
house-parties. A near relation to stay, an occasional 
musical at home ” to neighbours and acquaintances, 
was the extent of the hospitalities of Tristerwood. It 
was no wonder that an air of remoteness from ordinary 
interests, of aloofness from the every-day world, hung 
about them. 

For nearly twelve years Lady Gilder dale had been 
laid aside from all active participation in life. A ter- 
rible carriage accident had cost the health and reason 
of her only child, and the tragedy of it had eaten deep 
into her own life. She had come to the bitter knowl- 
edge that Sir Hervey’s one desire and hope in marry- 
ing had been to have an heir. Sole representative of 
a very old house, his family had been his fetich, and 
she had learned, though how she could scarcely tell, 
that it had been her perfect health, her beauty, her 
long descent, that had made her in his eyes an ideal 
mother for his heir, not she herself that he had de- 
sired. As so often happens in such a case, three or 
four years elapsed before the longed-for event im- 
pended, and then came the accident that left him with 
an invalid wife and hopes frustrated. The child was 
an idiot and frightfully deformed. 

Every one said how beautifully he behaved. Never 
one word of reproach did he utter, though both he 
and Judith knew that it had been her wilfulness in 
spite of his warning, that had led to the disaster. But 
oh, how passionately did she long for him to speak — 
to say anything rather than keep his heart closed to 
her ! In those first impatient years she cried on Death 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


138 

to come and release her — release him, as she felt he 
must long to be released. He was very good to her, 
and so was his mother, to whom all his heart belonged. 
It was the mother who had planned and brought about 
the marriage; it was she indeed whom Judith had 
been in love with when she accepted the son. The 
younger woman had had a girl's enthusiasm for the 
clever brilliant Lady Gilderdale, who made all her 
son's sayings and doings sparkle with a charm she 
lent them. In truth Judith knewHervey chiefly through 
his mother's talk; she felt that so good a son must 
needs be a good husband; she thought the cold shy 
nature would unlock when marriage should have put 
the key into her hand. But it never did ; he remained 
all his mother's. They were all in all to each other. 
To them both, Judith was at first the possible mother 
of the heir; later, when she had failed in her mission, 
a stricken soul to be tenderly dealt with and kept from 
all the disagreeables of life. 

It was the custom in the family to extol Hervey's 
beautiful devotion to his invalid wife, and resignation 
under his disappointment; but Clemency Fane once 
remarked : Fond as I am of Hervey, I could never 

have married him ; he would have given me an inward 
chill." 

At last, after nearly twelve years of sofa life, some 
new discovery in surgery, some specially gifted doctor, 
were brought to bear upon Lady Gilderdale's case, and 
after some months of treatment, chiefly abroad, she 
found herself upon her feet again, to begin a new 
existence if she could. She had lain down upon that 
sofa a girl of five-and-twenty, with all her outdoor in- 
terests and social ambitions suddenly quenched, pas- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


139 


sionately rebellious against the fate that chained her 
there ; she rose from it a white-haired woman, a 
woman who had read and thought, who had done little 
else but read and think, for twelve long years. It was 
very much as if she had died and suffered a reincarna- 
tion. 

The death of old Lady Gilderdale had taken place a 
short while before her daughter-in-law’s recovery, and 
sincerely as Judith mourned her, a hope arose in her 
heart that now at last there might be room for her at 
her husband’s side ; that she. might in some measure 
fill that post of ministry to him which his mother’s 
devotion and her own ill health had kept her out of 
all these years. She resolved to make herself his com- 
panion ; she interested herself in all that interested 
him ; she took up her long-neglected music that she 
might be able to play his accompaniments. He ac- 
cepted her society, admired her grace and the charm 
of her conversation, he consulted her, deferred to her 
wishes, yet let her feel that for him the empty place 
would always be empty ; that though he was happy to 
have her with him, solitude was sweeter still. 

It vexed Judith that her playing should fail to 
satisfy his fastidious taste. It was not that he criti- 
cised it ; he only never asked for it. She had always 
loved music, but her study of it in her girlhood had 
been amateurish, and even before her illness he had 
manifestly held it cheap. As long as his mother 
lived he needed no one else to play for him, and Judith 
had kept her playing in the background. Naturally 
all the years of enforced idleness had put her at a great 
disadvantage as regarded technique, though in some 


140 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


subtler qualities of comprehension and feeling her 
powers had been ripening in the shade. 

It was then that Redway had walked into the still 
life of Tristerwood, and Judith resolved to put herself 
under his tuition, and, cost what toil it might, win 
back at least such measure of proficiency as should 
enable her to bear her part in the chamber-music in 
which her husband delighted. She found in him the 
very master she needed. The rigid exactingness he 
had learned in helping to train an orchestra of men, 
his utter want of consideration for the helplessness 
of the amateur or the dignity of my lady,’' the 
curious mingling of brusqueness and patience that 
characterise the professional teacher, the reliableness 
of his own playing and utter indifference to hers, put 
her on her mettle and subdued her nervousness far 
better than praise would have done. He amused her 
by the frankness of his criticisms ; she who, so to 
speak, had been kept in cotton-wool, found a certain 
piquant novelty in being scolded. 

She studied with him regularly, besides taking part 
in the general practices, and presently she had her re- 
ward. Sir Hervey made no remark, but he asked her 
to play as a favour, and brought her all his new things 
to try over with him. She gained more : something 
widened in her own life ; the world seemed bigger, 
brighter, fuller of interest than it had ever done be- 
fore. The more she played, the more delight she took 
in listening. She found music, as many find it, the 
best, nay the only, substitute for personal happiness. 

Meanwhile the three whom Redway was influencing 
so strongly in varying ways, were not without in- 
fluence on him. Out of the rough calyx of the music- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


141 

master the musician was coming into flower. Sir 
Hervey was the one most appreciative of the ripening 
that was taking place in his favourite, and it won from 
him the precious gift of the Amati. Redway’s posi- 
tion was very much that of the Haus-Musiker in 
courtly German households of the olden time : he 
came and went as they needed him, and grew into a 
certain kind of intimacy — a partial kind, for it only 
took cognisance of him as a musician ; that he was a 
real live man as well, they hardly took into account. 

Clemency Fane was rather fond of experimenting 
upon the violinist and trying to draw him out on the 
subject of his art — usually in vain, for when the prac- 
tices were in progress he had a way of lifting his vio- 
lin to his shoulder as a significant hint that the time 
for conversation was at an end. But one day he had 
joined the two ladies at tea upon the terrace, for Sir 
Hervey had been detained at a meeting in Pinecliff. 

Miss Fane was in a state of ecstatic delight over a 
new symphony that had lately been performed. 

It was exquisite,” she said. I seemed to myself 
to be walking through a dense wood ; I pictured it all 
to myself; the birds sang, the stream bubbled over 
the pebbles, iP was springtime. Then a dark cloud 
came up ; there was the sound of thunder, the tramp 
of armed men ; a battle broke in upon the calm. 
Now, do tell me, were those the things it made you 
think of ? ” 

He shook his head. 

Oh, but do try and remember and tell me. I do 
so like to know how different people listen. You 
must have been thinking of something.” 

No, I was not — not of things, at any rate.” 


142 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


'' I suppose you mean you were thinking of clefs 
and progressions and development of subjects, and so 
forth/" 

No, I don’t think I was ; not consciously/" 

'' Do you mean you were not attending ? "" 

Lady Gilderdale looked up ; she had been listening 
with an amused smile on her face. “ My dear 
Clemency, when you read a poem are you thinking of 
the rhyme, the rhythm, the construction all the 
time ? "" 

No, but then I am thinking of what it says/" 

But you see the poem puts its images in words 
which appeal to thoughts : the music speaks mu- 
sically."" 

Redway met the eye of the speaker and smiled. 

Thank you,"" he said ; “ that is exactly what I mean, 
only I did not know how to say it. To me it is just 
music ; the rest is all cant, to my mind."" 

‘‘ Religion often seems cant to the uninitiated,’" said 
Miss Fane, with a hint of offence in her tone. 

I am afraid that was an uncivil word to use after 
what you had just been saying ; but I was thinking 
more of those intolerable programmes, dictating what 
you are to be imagining all the time, as if the music 
itself was not enough/" 

‘‘ I am with you there,” said Lady Gilderdale. 

Take such a thing as German’s symphonic poem of 
^ Hamlet," for instance. I always feel that I should 
enjoy it so much better if I were let alone.' I dislike 
being told that I am to think of Ophelia’s insanity at 
one moment, and of the stabbing of Polonius at 
another. The whole thing might work in me the 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


143 

same mood as the tragedy itself, but directly you be- 
gin to translate it in detail, you have spoilt it/" 

After all,"" he said, ‘‘ it is just an attempt to bring 
music down to the level of the average hearer/" 
Judith nodded. To render it into a language un- 
derstanded of the people/" 

Exactly. And isn"t it a fact that of all Beethoven"s 
symphonies, the Pastorale is the one least beloved of 
musicians and most popular with the laity ? "" 

“ Oh, the Pastorale ! "" cried Clemency ; ‘‘ I give 
you that. I grant that the attempt to literally imitate 
natural sounds is the lowest thing music can do, and 
with the great master it was probably a mere jest. But 
surely we may like to know what inspired the com- 
poser — ^what he was thinking of when he wrote."" 

I don"t know that I would admit even that,"" said 
Lady Gilderdale. ‘‘ It is the state of feeling that he 
gives, and the more you put it in words, the less the 
music will say to you. What was a sunrise to him, 
may be a lark"s song to me ; but if I know the lan- 
guage, and can catch the same mood of joyous ex- 
hilaration, I don"t see the necessity for translating it 
back into a material sunrise."" 

I suppose that is the emotional way of listen- 
ing,"" said Miss Fane. I think Krehbiel classifies the 
effect of music under three heads : the sensuous, the 
intellectual, the emotional. I wonder which of the 
last two is the higher."" 

Please don"t,"" said Redway rising, and setting 
down his cup. You are getting me horribly out of 
my depth again. Lady Gilderdale, do you think it is 
any use my waiting for Sir Hervey ? I could come 
again on Thursday at the same time if that would do."" 


144 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Sit down again and have another cup of tea. 
Don’t let Miss Fane frighten you away. She is ter- 
ribly fond of theorising, but doing things is more im- 
portant than being able to talk about them. I for 
one decline to subscribe to your classification, 
Clemency ; the three are far too closely intertwined 
— there is an appeal to each in all music worthy the 
name.” 

He sat down again and took the cup Lady Gilder- 
dale offered, but did not attempt any further contribu- 
tion to the discussion, and in a minute Clemency’s 
quick-moving thought had reached another phase. 

If poetry is a criticism of life,” she said after a 
brief pause, I am sure music is so in a still higher 
degree.” 

Perhaps so,” said Judith, if by a criticism you 
mean an interpretation.” 

“ Then the best musicians ought to be those who 
have lived and experienced and suffered the most.” 

‘‘ That is by no means the rule. Miss Fane. I have 
known fellows who played divinely, and in a heart- 
breaking sort of way too, who when the fiddle was 
out of their hands were just jovial good comrades 
— no more; and, conversely, people with the finest 
feelings are no good if they have not mastered their 
craft.” 

‘‘ I suppose so. Still I cannot help thinking that 
those who have suffered must have the truest insight 
into music.” 

Maybe,” said Lady Gilderdale, that is just what 
genius means : to have by gift of nature a grasp of 
the meaning of all life — of its depths and of its high 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


145 

places, which others must go through the fire to 
learn/' 

Roger said nothing ; his quick, bright eyes went 
from one to the other of the speakers. Then sud- 
denly he said he must really go ; he would be late for 
his next appointment. 

Miss Fane leaned back in her chair and watched 
his retreating figure. 

Why are gifts so divided ? " she said. ‘‘ So great 
a faculty — for I acknowledge that — and so little com- 
prehension." 

I am not sure of that. He does not express him- 
self in words, that is all." 

For Judith was remembering a thing she had no- 
ticed in him when, as sometimes happened, she took 
her lesson up-stairs in her little morning-room. Tris- 
terwood, raised on its terraces above the encircling 
pinewoods, looked away over the eastern headland to 
the white lighthouse standing with its sentinel rocks 
far out to sea ; to the long chain of sand-hills ; to 
the river broadening on its way through the marshes ; 
to the belt of ragged pines straggling singly down to 
the crumbling ferry-cottage and the old inn, and be- 
yond to the dwindling, melting coast-line lost in an 
amethyst haze. On a still day at the turn of the tide 
each tree, each building, the masts of every vessel 
lying in the harbour, would be repeated in long lines 
of gray on a silver mirror ; another time the long 
links of golden sand-hills seemed floating in a 
sapphire sea ; or again, a line of surf rolled up against 
the bar, gleaming white beyond the dark trees. 

Never two days alike, and in all its aspects Judith 
loved it, and to her the outlook from her window was 


146 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


a glimpse out of the every-day world into the land 
which lies the other side of the ivory gates. When she 
observed that it drew the violinist like a magnet, and 
he never played so well as when his eye was travelling 
away down the shining reaches, she thought perhaps 
after all he had more sensibility than they had given 
him credit for, and the soul of an artist lay behind 
those silent lips. 


XIV. 


Breakfast was just over, and Em was playing with 
the baby. Betty’s company, though hardly desired at 
this early hour, was indispensable, since the domestic 
arrangements of the little household obliged her nurse 
to be otherwise occupied. Roger was taking a hasty 
glance through the paper as he swallowed his last 
cup of coffee before he set off on a round of lessons. 
Presently a startled exclamation from him made his 
wife pause in her rather risky amusement of dangling 
her watch into the baby’s mouth, and ask : 

What is it? Are we going to war with the Trans- 
vaal, or have the socialists blown up the royal 
family?” 

No, no ; it is my father. Listen : 

‘ Lovers of music of an elder type will learn with 
regret that the last of the votaries of a fast-vanishing 
school is about to close his long career. Doctor Se- 
bastian Redway, who has been organist of Drone- 
chester Cathedral for upwards of forty years, has been 
stricken down with paralysis, and is not expected to 
live many days. In the musical world of to-day his 
name has become well-nigh a dead letter, for he was 
of those who refuse to move with the times, and it is 
long since it figured on any concert programme; but 
those who appreciate scholarly contrapuntal writing 
will spare a sigh to the memory of the composer of 
‘‘ Abner ” and ‘‘ The Hundred and Nineteenth Psalm.” 


147 


148 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


A very new man is pointed to as his probable succes- 
sor/ ’’ 

He threw down the paper, and sprang up. Get 
me a time-table; I must go down to Dronechester.’’ 

Em set Betty on the floor and went to fetch one. 

Look here,'' she said, coming back ; ‘‘ there is a 
train at eight-forty, but you could hardly catch that; 
besides, what about your lessons? Still I suppose you 
had better go. One can never tell how people may 
act at the end, and he must have saved." 

'‘Oh, Em, how can you! I wasn't thinking of 
that." 

" Weren't you? Then you ought to have been, for 
my sake and Betty's. Neither you nor I earn so much 
that we can afford to sneeze at a little private income 
if it should come our way. Go and play the prodigal 
son by all means, my dear, and do it prettily." 

His face darkened. " I am not in the mood for jok- 
ing," he said. 

" Isn't this rather a pose ? Is there any need for 
affectations between you and me? Most women, I 
know, are supposed to like decent conventions, but 
candidly, I prefer plain speaking." 

He looked at her with a curious look. He recog- 
nised the absolute futility of asserting that the instinc- 
tive, instantaneous movement of his thought had been 
regret, compunction — that in honest truth the money- 
question had never entered his head till she put it 
there. 

“ Don’t reckon on any money from that quarter," he 
said. " My father is one of those who do not change 
their minds." 

‘‘Then why waste time in going? You will lose 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


149 


pounds if you should be detained a few days ; besides, 
pupils are always offended if you put them off. You 
have not seen your father for twelve years ; you can- 
not really care about seeing him again.’’ 

His answer was to take the time-table from her 
hand and pull out his watch. 

‘‘ I think I could just do it,” he said. ‘‘ Toss a few 
things into a bag for me, there’s a good girl. And 
you’ll have to write and put off my pupils. My en- 
gagement-book is on my dressing-table. I will wire 
if I find I can get back to-morrow.” 

He had always reckoned Dronechester one of the 
places that do not change. In his impatient boyhood 
he had scoffed at it as an old stick-in-the-mud, but 
now the wide new station with its glass roof, its asphalt 
paving, and its staring advertisements did not strike 
him as an improvement, and was so altered that had 
he not seen the long bulk of the cathedral from the 
carriage windows, he would hardly have believed that 
this was indeed Dronechester. There used to be a 
footpath to the town, with a field on one side, but now 
there were rows upon rows of horrible little artisan 
dwellings, all exactly alike, reaching to the streets. 
Something seemed to have happened to the leisurely 
calm of the High Street; the low shallow bow win- 
dows behind which the goods used to appear with a 
decent reserve, suggestive of something better stored 
away inside, had given place to plate-glass frontages 
with a display that might rival Pinecliff, everything 
ticketed at something and eleven pence three farthings. 
The ancient exquisitely wrought Butter Cross looked 
astray and out of countenance, and the pump with 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


150 

which he had played so many tricks in days of yore, 
was e:j^changed for a scarlet letter-box. 

The lime avenue that formed a fitting prelude to 
the great nave of the cathedral interlaced its long green 
arms as of old, and threw the self-same dappled shad- 
ows on the flags; but the ancient graveyard with its 
crowd of quaint tombstones of every date and style, 
whereby the old townsmen, dead and gone, tried to 
speak to their fellows and successors, as they passed 
them by, Sunday after Sunday, had all been ruthlessly 
destroyed, the very dead themselves turned out of 
their once-sacred resting-place, that the ground might 
be levelled, and God’s Acre turned into a pleasure- 
garden. 

Poor old father, who hated change so ! What 
must he have felt ! And he thought to lie here,” said 
Roger to himself. Then he passed through a narrow 
archway underneath a buttress, called the slype, and 
stood in a green quiet close. 

Ah, here at last he found his boyhood again; here 
nothing was changed ! The same expanse of emerald 
turf, fenced round with rusty chains, the same digni- 
fied serene-looking Georgian houses with their high, 
narrow windows and stone facings; the same rooks 
cawing sleepily in the lime-trees, the same jackdaws 
chattering among the gargoyles — nay, the same tufts 
of snapdragon and valerian on the old gray walls, the 
same tender draping of toadflax and harebell over the 
arches of the bit of ruined cloister adjoining the 
Deanery. 

But that passionate, eager-hearted boy, who had once 
so hated it all, where was he? How was it he had 
never come back? Had he indeed never had time to 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


151 

grow homesick for this ‘‘ haunt of ancient peace ’’ ? 
He remembered how, when he had got away, it had 
seemed like an escape from prison: it touched his 
senses with other feelings now. 

His father's house was at the end of a secluded row 
called Dumb Alley. Here truly time had stood still 
and waited for him. The very scent of the twin honey- 
suckle from the porch of the Canon's house opposite 
smelt of home, as he stood upon the doorstep. 

He stepped back and looked up at the house front, 
and the shuttered windows told him he was too late. 
He waited some time after he had knocked; then at 
last a shuffling step sounded crossing the flagged hall, 
and the door was opened a very little way by a young 
servant-girl. 

Doctor Redway is — " Somehow he could not 
finish. 

He is dead, sir. He died this morning early." She 
was about to close the door. It appeared to her there 
was no use in leaving cards on a dead man, and there 
were no relatives to be inquired for. What else could 
the strange gentleman want? 

Stay a moment. Does Mrs. Webster live here 
still?" 

‘"To be sure she does, sir; but I don't think you 
can see her ; she was up with the master all last night, 
and she've just gone to lay down." 

“ Very well. I will come in again later." 

“ I don't know, I'm sure," said the girl doubtfully. 
“ Perhaps I'd better tell her, if you'll step inside, 
please, sir." 

She went off without inquiring his name, and he 
waited, crossing the hall to the glass door at the back, 


152 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


and looking out at the sunny garden, at the trees he 
used to climb, at the corner under the wall where 
nothing would ever grow, where he had had his very 
own garden when he was a little chap. 

Webster, a hard-favoured person of sixty-five, was 
considerably astonished when she walked demurely 
into the hall to interview, as she supposed, the under- 
taker’s young man, to find herself taken by the shoul- 
ders and heartily kissed by a moustached gentleman 
she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before. 

My dear old Webbie, don’t you know me? ” 

'' If it isn’t Master Dodge ! Oh, my dear, my dear, 
to think you should have come too late ! ” 

Down came the tears, and the good soul buried her 
face in her apron. 

He patted her shoulder. ‘‘ There, don’t cry, dear. 
Come and sit down and tell me about it.” He drew 
her to the broad window-seat, and sat down beside 
her. I wish you could have let me know sooner that 
he was ill.” 

My dear child, how could I ? And me never know- 
ing where to write to — nor rightly knowing indeed 
whether you’d care to hear.” 

‘‘ I know. It was my own fault; I ought to have 
let you know where I was. I suppose he never told 
you. I wrote to him, you know, when I first went to 
Pinecliff, and again when I was married, but he never 
took any notice of my letters. Then last year, when 
my little girl was born, I had a notion I would come 
and try to see him; and then I thought perhaps he 
would fancy I came for what I could get. So some- 
how I never plucked up courage, and this morning I 
saw his illness in the paper.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


153 


'' You don’t mean you have got a wife and child, 
Master Dodge? Well, I never! How the time do go, 
to be sure. You didn’t bring ’em, I suppose?” 

He smiled. No, they are at home at Pinecliff. I 
should like to show you the baby, Webbie; she is an 
awfully ’cute little beggar ; she can say a lot of things. 
I wish father had known. I wish — ah well, it is too 
late now.” 

’Twouldn’t have been no use, my dear, if you was 
to have come. You know what your poor dear papa 
was — a very firm gentleman always.” 

I know. Still — Did he never speak of me, Web- 
bie?” 

Webster did not answer immediately, but sat crimp- 
ing up the hem of her apron in her fingers. Well, 
there, I don’t half like to tell ye,” she said at last. 

‘‘ Go on ; I would rather hear.” 

Well, on the Tuesday the poor master seemed a 
deal worse, clearer in his head but more quiet-like, 
and he was always so erritable that I didn’t half like 
the looks of him; no more didn’t Doctor Dillson. 
‘ My good woman,’ he says to me, ‘ your master is not 
long for this world,’ he says. ‘ His son had ought to 
be sent for.’ 

‘‘ ^ Law, sir,’ says I, ^ Mr. Roger ain’t been home 
this twelve year. The Doctor himself may know 
where he is, but I know no more where to write to than 
the babe unborn, and I dursn’t for my life put the 
question to him.’ 

‘ I always think,’ says he, ^ that when there is no 
hope, the relatives should decide whether the patient 
should be told of his condition or not; but in this 
case I’ll take it on myself. Doctor Redway is a man 


154 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


of courage, and ’twon’t make no difference either way 
now. ril speak to him when I come again, the last 
thing/ 

So in the evening, when he had felt his pulse and 
so forth, he says, ‘ Doctor,’ he says, ‘ I can’t give you 
no hopes of getting about again. You are losing 
ground, and I think it right to speak out candid and 
open in case of your having affairs to settle, and such- 
like.’ 

‘ All right,’ says the Doctor ; ^ you don’t frighten 
me any. I knew it just so well as you can tell me.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Is there anything you would wish to attend to ? ’ 
says Doctor Dillson, ^ while your faculties are all 
clear, you know ? ’ 

" No, I thank you,’ says Master. ‘ My affairs is 
all settled. I didn’t wait till I was seventy to see to all 
that.’ 

^ I think, sir, your son should be written to,’ says 
Doctor Dillson, rather timid-like. 

^ Son, sir ? I have no son.’ And with that poor 
Master turned his face to the wall and we didn’t dare 
speak another word, neither of us.” 

She paused a moment, then went on : ‘‘ It was early 
this morning he was took. I was sitting by him. 

^ Webster,’ he says sudden, and put out his hand, and 
that was all.” 

When she ended her narrative Roger sat still, 
gnawing his moustache and saying nothing. The good 
woman sniffed audibly a few times, and her apron 
went up to her eyes again. Ah, dear,” she mourned 
to herself, ’tis a pitiful tale to tell to a son, to be sure ; 
and him to listen with neither a word nor a tear. But 
there! They was hard men, both of them. Maybe 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


155 

’twould have been different if his poor dear mamma 
had lived/’ 

Roger moved presently, and Webster stood up. 

You’d like to look upon him once more, Mr. 
Roger ? ” 

He assented silently, and followed her up the wide 
shallow stairs with the oaken balusters down which he 
had so often defiantly slid. He could see the very 
scratch he had made, riding down one day with a nail 
in his hand, and vividly recalled the castigation he 
had got. Webster opened the door of the big front 
bedroom where his father had always slept, and closed 
it behind him, leaving him alone. 

The room smelt close and heavy and was almost 
dark, for the shutters were to, though not fastened, 
and only a narrow beam of light crept in and lay 
slantwise across the faded Brussels carpet with the 
familiar pattern in dim red. He knew the position of 
each bit of furniture so well, he easily found his way 
across, and setting one shutter partly back, threw up 
the window to let the sweet summer air blow in. He 
could breathe better, but his heart was beating very 
hard and thick as he stepped to the bed and reverently 
folded back the sheet that lay over the rigid form. 

How unaltered ! ” was his first thought. A little 
grayer, a little more rugged perhaps, and with the 
characteristic grimness emphasised by a three days’ 
growth of stubble on the unshorn chin. The ineffable 
smile that gives such a strange aloofness to most dead 
faces was absent ; the dead man looked arrested, with 
the expression of one who had met death, as he had 
met life, under protest. 

His son knelt down beside him, and said aloud : 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


156 

Father, I would have been a good son to you if you 
would have let me/’ Then he pressed his lips to the 
cold forehead. Ah, how cold is that coldness of 
death ! He expected it, yet it startled him, and he 
shivered all over. For a few minutes he remained 
kneeling. He was not a Catholic, yet to pray for the 
soul of his dead father seemed the instinctive outcome 
of natural piety. 

Then he rose and went to the window, and stood 
awhile musing and wondering who had been to blame 
for the long estrangement. He believed still he had 
been right. If the decision were to make again, he 
would not reverse it. Every man must take the re- 
sponsibility of his own life upon his own shoulders 
when he comes to man’s estate. No father has a right 
to impose his will upon his son and force him into an 
uncongenial career. But with the wider outlook of 
thirty, Roger saw both sides more clearly, and ac- 
knowledged that his crude youth had done angrily, 
rebelliously, that which might have been done with 
greater respect and consideration. Youth in its ig- 
norance is often very cruel to age. He knew better 
now what fatherhood meant, and he understood how 
it might have been perverted love that made the old 
man so harsh and stubborn, so bitter even unto death. 

Then some one tapped on the door and said the 
Dean had called, and would like to speak to him. 


XV. 


Next morning Redway wrote to his wife and told 
her not to expect him back for a few days : he should 
remain at Dronechester till after the funeral. Em 
thought it very foolish ; he ought to come back to 
his work, and run down again for the day, she said. 
The journey was nothing, and since his father was al- 
ready dead when he got there, she could not see what 
was to be gained by his wasting his time. 

In truth, the spirit of the old place had laid its hand 
upon Roger, and woke a desire for its stillness and 
peace. He did not want to turn his back upon it at 
once, and be swallowed up again in the strenuous 
hurry of his usual life. He would fain have a little 
quiet lonely holiday here, in company with his old 
self, roaming about the dim old cathedral whose 
stones were built into his very life. 

The town might be changed past recognition — 
might have gone rushing down the hill of modern 
progress, the goal of which is cheap vulgarity, but 
nothing could change the cathedral. There it stood 
in its stately solemnity, as it had stood for more than 
eight centuries, a witness for high ideals and noble 
workmanship, a witness for the Kingdom of God 
against the kingdoms of this world. 

His old school had been ruthlessly improved.’’ 
There was a new head master since his time, and the 
big, noisy schoolroom where he had worked and 

157 


158 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


shirked had been divided into classrooms. A better 
plan no doubt — but the corner where his desk had 
stood was unrecognisable, and he could not even find 
the window-ledge where his own initials were cut 
deep. Some of the more out-of-the-way streets were 
unaltered: St. Clement’s Lane, a staid narrow pas- 
sage with the old houses nearly meeting overhead, 
where the offices of Messrs. Hiscock & Payne were 
situated, was just the same. He had to call on them 
about his father’s will, and wondered to himself how 
he would ever have borne to sit day after day, like a 
caged linnet, behind those dusty wire blinds. 

Then there were the long green water-meadows be- 
low the town, where the river, parting into in- 
numerable branches, meandered through the valley. 
As he strolled down there in the summer dusk, his 
feet brushing through the cool lush grass, and heard 
the aspens whisper to each other the same old secrets 
as of old, it almost seemed as though London and 
Pinecliff — nay, Em and the baby — were all a dream. 
The shallow trenches were lined with blue forget-me- 
not, the sedges and tall spikes of purple lustrife stood 
knee-deep in the stream, the swallows were dipping 
and darting after the water-spiders just as they used 
to do, and there was a sedge-warbler fluting like an 
imitation nightingale there where the rushes grew 
thick. Between him and the town stood long ranks 
of Lombardy poplars like sentinels, and through them 
the immense gray pile of the cathedral loomed dim in 
the purpling haze. 

There was hardly more change on the gray chalk 
downs that rose In softly rounded slopes against the 
sky, only they began farther out, as the suburbs had 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


159 


encroached. There they lay, fold beyond fold, in their 
sheep-dotted monotony, the hills so like each other 
that he had often lost himself there in fog or snow. 
Spring always used to begin first out there, where 
the hazel coppices nestled in sheltered cup-like hol- 
lows, with a bravery of golden tassels, while the first 
white violets of March peeped out underfoot. There, 
too, was music always, winter and summer, for over 
those uplands the lark scarcely ceased to sing. 

On his last evening he went late into the cathedral, 
for he had his father’s key, and he liked it best when 
the feet of the tourist had ceased to prowl and his in- 
cessant questions no longer surrounded each monu- 
ment with clamour. As he stood outside the choir, 
over against an ancient and very lovely chantry, a 
strangely vivid memory came to him, and he could 
almost fancy he could recognise the very boss of carv- 
ing against which his eight-year-old head had leaned 
while the eight-year-old heart had swelled with a pas- 
sion of impotent childish rebellion against injustice. 
It was Christmas Day, and some Christmas treat on 
which the little heart had been set had been denied 
him. There was no one to take his part, no mother 
to beg him off. He had stolen in late to hear the an- 
them, and crept up through the dense crowd in the 
nave to this obscure solitary corner. As the prayers 
inside droned on, he was thinking of his baby trouble 
and the cruelty of it all. He had been naughty, he 
knew, but not as naughty as all that, and it was a 
shame. 

Then there was a rustle as the people all rose from 
their knees, and a hush, and then it seemed as if a 
hand clutched his heart, and he held his breath as out 


i6o 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


upon the silence stole the wondrous chords. He could 
see the dark hills and the folded sheep, and presently 
rang out the clear, sweet voice — There were shep- 
herds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their 
flocks by night.’’ The voice ceased, and there came 
the rustling of wings as the angels gathered together, 
and the multitude of the Heavenly Host joined in the 
song — '' Glory to God.” 

For a moment the child had the Beatific Vision. 
He stood beside the shepherds on the bleak hillside, 
seeing the glory of great light and hearing the mes- 
sage of Redemption. He saw the infinite greatness 
that was around and above him, the infinite littleness 
of himself and the thing he wanted. The vision would 
not stay, yet he would never wholly forget. The man, 
as he moved away out of the shadow, found his eyes 
were wet. 

After the funeral, his father’s will was read, and he 
was of course present, though after what Webster had 
told him he knew quite well that it could not concern 
him. The savings did not amount to much ; the old 
doctor had never been a man to look after his money ; 
what there was, with the exception of one or two 
legacies to favourite pupils who had done the old 
master credit, was left to his faithful servant, Martha 
Webster. Roger was well pleased that it should be 
so, and consoled her when she expressed her distress 
at robbing him,” as she put it, by asking -her to give 
him one or two things that had belonged to his 
mother — her workbox with its old-fashioned fittings 
and faded silks, a valueless trinket or two, and a few 
books. He thought he would like to give Em some- 
thing that had been hers. He was genuinely glad 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


i6i 


that Webster should be comfortably provided for in 
her old age. He had proposed to his wife to ask her 
to come and live with them as Betty's nurse, but Em 
negatived the suggestion very decidedly. Old ser- 
vants were a nuisance, she said, and so tyrannical : 
she would be certain to spoil the baby and resent in- 
terference ; it would not do at all. She was probably 
wise ; Webster had never been used to a mistress 
over her, and the chances were, it would have been a 
failure. So he bade good-bye to the old servant and 
the old home that he would most likely never see 
again, but part of the old self he took with him. 

Emmie was out when he arrived ; the maid thought 
she had gone round to Mrs. Temple-Smith's to tea. 
He had written a card to tell her what train he was 
coming by, and he did think she might have remem- 
bered. He had nothing to do, so as soon as he had 
had something to eat he went up to the nursery and 
played with the baby. 

A curious passage in that remarkable book, "‘The 
Choir Invisible," suggests that in every man lies hid 
something of the woman, the wife he looks to find in 
the woman he loves. The ideal woman who lurked in 
the depths of Roger's consciousness, and to whose 
measure he was always trying to fit Em, would have 
been at home to greet him ; would have comforted 
him without staying to question why he should need 
comfort after a loss which could be no loss ; would 
have understood better than he did himself the trouble 
of feelings, old and new, that had been stirred up, the 
craving for something that had never been, the bitter 
regret — not for what he had done, but for the way he 


i 62 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


had done it ; the passionate pity that ached for the 
poor old man who had died as he had lived, alone. 

He was in a soft mood; he had been touched and 
moved as he very rarely was. Through all these years 
of striving and toil he had been hardening, but now 
the crust that so often grows over a man as mid- 
dle age draws on had for the moment been broken 
through; he would fain have rested his head against 
his wife’s shoulder and let her comfort him. But he 
knew better than to make any such demand on Em; 
she could pet him very sweetly when she chose, but 
she seldom answered to any appeal. She would cer- 
tainly scoff at any pretence of grief for the father he 
had neglected for all these years. 

However, as soon as she heard that he was in the 
house, she came straight up-stairs and entered the 
nursery, looking exquisitely pretty in a pink frilled 
muslin blouse. 

Well, did you save anything? ” she asked, as she 
kissed him hastily through a spotted veil. 

No,” he said shortly and rather gruffly. I did 
not expect to, as you know. My father had very little 
to leave, and what there was went quite properly to 
the old servant who looked after him.” 

Em shrugged her shoulders. Of course. I thought 
as much. And no doubt she had feathered her own 
nest pretty well already.” 

‘‘ I don’t grudge it to her if she had, faithful old 
soul! Do you know she had lived with my father 
for forty years? Think what it would be at sixty-five 
to be turned out to begin the world again. I am glad 
he did the square thing by her at any rate.” 

Well, it can’t be helped now. Only it was a pity 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


163 


you wasted five days down there. I could not see the 
use of your staying, since he was dead already when 
you got there.^’ 

He broke out angrily : Em, I wish you would un- 
derstand that had nothing to do with it. I did not go 
down for what I could get/^ 

‘‘ Oh, very well, since you say so. But supposing it 
was filial duty, what was the good when the poor old 
gentleman was no more? I hope you have not been 
amusing yourself with any old flame, eh? — ^There, 
don’t use naughty words. You have come back most 
horribly cross, do you know? Well, I don’t wonder, 
poor old boy ! it was odiously disappointing.” 

She kissed him again, this time without the veil. 

Come along. I am going to take my hat oflf, and 
you can come with me and tell me your adventures. 
It is quite time Betty was put to bed.” 

He decided he would not show Em his mother’s 
things; she would only think them old and shabby. 
He put them carefully away: Betty should have them 
by and by. 

I had no idea, had you, Judith,” remarked Sir 
Hervey Gilderdale, that our fiddler was the son of old 
Sebastian Redway of Dronechester ? I wonder I never 
thought to ask him ; it is not a common name.” 

I don’t think I would say anything about it if I 
were you,” she answered. I fancy he must have 
quarrelled with his father. I think I remember hear- 
ing that Doctor Redway had had trouble with a son.” 

Wild oats, I suspect. He seems a steady enough 
fellow now. I suppose he has an eye to the main 
chance, for I met Canon Westbury in the train, and 


164 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


he told me that though the young man had not been 
near his father for a dozen years or more, he appeared 
at the funeral. There was nothing for him, however ; 
what little the old man had to leave went to old 
servants.^’ 

I think if there had not been something amiss he 
would have spoken of his father,’’ said Judith. ‘‘ He 
was a man of some eminence, wasn’t he ? ” 

He was one of the finest organists I ever heard. 
I remember his playing at one of the great festivals 
years ago. I wonder he did not bring his son up to 
the organ. He was an excellent composer, too — one 
of the very last of the old school. Fine traditions die 
with him.” 


XVI. 


So I suppose you expect me to congratulate 
you ? '' Em kissed her sister and began to help her 
unfasten her long travelling-cloak. They were stand- 
ing in Em’s bedroom, scrutinising one another after 
the manner of sisters who have not met for long. 
Ethel had just arrived to spend a few hours; a brief 
farewell visit : for next week she was to sail for India 
to marry an old pupil of her father’s, on the Indian 
medical staff. 

Her sister repeated her kiss with — ‘‘ Oh, you foolish, 
foolish Brat, whom I thought so enviable ! ” 

Why, Emmie ! What do you mean ? I always 
thought you liked Harry, though of course he never 
was one of your special friends.” 

Oh, Harry, yes; he is a very good sort in his way. 
It isn’t Harry I object to, but matrimony in the ab- 
stract.” 

The light in Ethel’s happy eyes gave place to a look 
of anxious concern, as she turned round from the 
looking-glass. She put down her hat-pins and took 
her sister by the two shoulders, looking into her face. 

Oh, Emmie darling, you don’t mean you are not 
happy ? ” 

Em laughed. Now don’t for goodness’ sake look 
tragic ! I assure you there is nothing in the world to 
look tragic about. Suppose we go down to the fire; 
it is horribly cold up here. Are you ready? ” 


165 


i66 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


But Ethel was not to be so easily put off. As soon 
as they were settled comfortably beside the drawing- 
room fire, she began again: 

‘‘ Em, what is it? Why do you say these things? 

Why, indeed ! I acknowledge it is perfectly use- 
less. I don’t suppose one’s own experience is ever of 
the slightest use to anybody else. If I said I was not 
happy, I don’t imagine you would give up Harry a 
bit the more.” 

Give up Harry ! I should think not indeed. But 
there must be some reason for your talking in this 
bitter way about marriage. Do tell me; isn’t Roger 
good to you? ” 

Emmie shrugged her shoulders. Oh, good, yes ; 
I suppose he is pretty good as husbands go. He does 
not beat me nor drag me down-stairs by the hair of 
my head, as you seem to imagine he might.” Then 
she laughed again. When you have been married 
as long as I have. Brat, you’ll know better what to 
expect in married life, and by that time, unfortunately, 
tinder the present condition of affairs, your experience 
will be too late to be of any use to you.” 

I can’t understand it at all,” said Ethel, distressed. 

I did think if ever a man was violently in love. Dodge 
was with you.” 

‘‘ Oh, of course he was ; only it is the nature of men 
to be different later on, don’t you see? In early days 
there is nothing on earth he won’t do for you, but he 
expects you to pay for it afterwards. He will be your 
slave for so many months or weeks, as the case may 
be, but when that is over you must be his for all the 
days of the years of your life. You are a fool if you 
make such a bargain with your eyes open.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


167 


I don’t care,” said Ethel stoutly. I don’t be- 
lieve Harry will ever want to make a slave of me, and 
if he should — why, Em, one likes to do things for the 
man one cares for.” 

Does one ? I don’t.” She tilted her chair back 
and clasped her hands behind her head. The fact is 
I was born a generation too soon. The twentieth 
century will see a very different condition of things.” 

Will it? I doubt it. I believe that in essentials 
men and women will always be pretty much what they 
have been from the beginning.” 

Em unclasped her hands, and sat up straight. 

Good gracious, Ethel, where did you pick up such 
reactionary — such copy-book sentiments?” 

All I mean is, there is a point beyond which you 
can’t go. All this change of fashions and of views is 
all very well — Nobody appreciates independence 
more than I do. But when it comes to the fundamen- 
tal relations between men and women, you can’t get 
behind nature; not all the women-lawyers, doctors, 
or professors in the world can alter it.” 

'‘Have you no faith in progress?” cried Em. 
" Woman is only now coming to her kingdom. Just 
see how we have been winning all along the line — 
the careers that are open to us, the positions we may 
take, undreamed-of fifty years ago. There is nothing 
we may not accomplish if we set our minds to it, and 
all pull together. We shall alter the marriage-laws 
before many years are over.” 

" If you do,” said Ethel soberly, " you’ll pull your 
own house about your ears.” 

" Well, marriage has not made me a renegade, and I 
never thought it would you.” 


i68 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I am not a renegade. I believe as much as ever 
I did that it is a wholesome fashion for a woman to 
be less dependent and brought up to take care of 
herself if needs be; but I do think we make a 
lot too much of what has been done. We for- 
get all the clever women of the past who have 
made great names, as well as all the rebellious ones 
who have tried to overturn things and couldn’t. 
History goes round and round ; the only thing is that 
we are so much more numerous now, and make more 
noise. To read the things in women’s papers, one 
would think there never had been women who gov- 
erned, women who fought, as well as women who 
wrote books, until the nineteenth century.” 

They were exceptions.” 

Perhaps they were. I grant you that activity is 
much more spread abroad. I am not concerned to 
assert that nothing has been done ; still, when it comes 
to marrying — You know the old saw: When two 
ride on one horse, one must ride behind; and I don’t 
think it ought to be the man.” 

“ Well, no. I don’t want to henpeck Roger,” said 
Em laughing ; ‘‘ but I want to keep my own individu- 
ality. I object to being merged in somebody else. 
Surely I have a right to develop my own character, 
to live out my life on my own lines.” 

Ethel looked puzzled. I don’t believe in all that 
rot,” she said bluntly. '' Have you been getting up 
^ Queen or Slave,’ or going in for an extensive course 
of Ibsen ? After all, you know no one lives to himself 
— or herself. The development of one’s character 
mainly comes through other people.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 169 

‘‘ Saul among the prophets ! cried Em. Ethel 
quoting Scripture ! ” 

Was I ? said Ethel simply. '' I did not know it ; 
it is true all the same.'’ 

What I maintain," said Em, still in rather a plat- 
form manner, is that the institution of marriage as 
we have it is about to be swept away like other out- 
worn superstitions ; that rational women are no longer 
going to bind themselves for life to the blunders they 
may have made before they knew anything of the 
world they live in." 

'' But that would cut both ways." 

Well, let it." 

Ethel left her seat and knelt down on the floor be- 
side her sister, putting her arm round her waist. 
'' Darling," she said, I am quite sure you would not 
talk like this if you had not been bitterly deceived. 
Tell me. I am your own sister, and perhaps Harry 
and I could help you if there is any trouble. Do 
speak out openly." 

Em drew herself away, with a little impatient move- 
ment. My dear child, don't be so sentimental," she 
cried. 

'' I am sure there must be something, and I cannot 
bear to go out to India in ignorance and leave you; 
the others never were so much to you as I was. You 
might trust me. I always liked Dodge, still I can fancy 
him the sort of man who might be a little wild." 

Wild ? Good heavens, no ! I sometimes wish he 
was. What a little goose you are, Ethel. You know 
the one thing I never could endure was dulness, and 
dulness of the most pronounced type seems to be my 


170 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


portion as far as I can see for the rest of my natural 
life/’ 

‘‘Dulness!” Ethel looked at her with perplexity 
clouding her kind eyes, and Em went on : 

‘‘ You see I made a fatal mistake ; but how was I 
to know ? I was in too great a hurry, or rather 
Dodge hurried and whirled me on without giving me 
time to know my own mind. I believe upon my soul 
I should have drawn back at the last minute — I was 
beginning to get sick of it — if Knowles had not in- 
terfered ; but I was resolved we were not going to be 
beaten by him. But now it is all so different. I fan- 
cied I was marrying into Bohemia, which would have 
suited me well enough — I am not mercenary — and be- 
hold, I find myself in the camp of the Philistines.” 

What do you mean ? I wish you would talk plain 
prose.” 

Need you ask what I mean when you look round 
you ? ” 

Ethel looked round obediently at the cheap pretti- 
ness, at the crowds of knick-knacks and wedding- 
presents, the liberty-silk cushions and art-muslin 
drapings, the portieres formed of strings of glass 
beads, the life-sized china monsters sitting in corners. 

Well,” she asked, what can you want more ? 
You always did know how to make your rooms look 
chic. Did you expect to live in a gipsy-tent or a cara- 
van, or what ? ” 

‘ Semi-detached and bow windowed,’ ” groaned 
Em, ignoring the question ; the facsimile of some 
thousands of other semi-detached and bow-windowed 
^ genteel residences ’ in Pinecliff ; and I have two 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


171 

maids — a nurse-housemaid, and a cook-general. Of 
course I am expected to play head nurse myself.^’ 

At this crisis of the threnody came the sound of a 
latch-key in the door, and a quick step in the hall, 
and in a minute Roger was in the room. 

‘‘ Well, wife, how have you been getting on ? 
Lunch ready ? Ah, Ethel, thaf s right ! How are 
you ? So you have made up your mind to forsake 
old England ; well, I hope you are going to be very 
happy. Em tells me Hancock is a good chap.'’’ 

Then, almost before greetings and congratulations 
were over : Have you seen the baby ? I’ll fetch 
her.” 

Oh, not now, Dodge. Spare us the baby. I don’t 
suppose she’s dressed yet, and she must have her din- 
ner in the nursery. I’ll have her brought down when 
we have finished lunch.” 

'' I want to see my little niece very much,” said 
Ethel ; she was supposed to be asleep when I ar- 
rived. She must be grown since I saw her.” 

Not much,” said her mother briefly, and led the 
way to the dining-room as though disposing of an 
uninteresting subject. 

^‘Well, wife,” said Roger presently, when he had 
got through the carving, you ought to be pleased 
with me ; I have got you an engagement to sing.” 

Have you ? Good boy ! Where ? ” 

At Tristerwood. They are contemplating a big 
music-party next month ; chiefly chamber-music, but 
they want a little singing, and Lady Gilderdale pro- 
posed you.” 

As the nearest approach to ‘ comic relief ’ that the 
severities of Tristerwood could permit, I suppose. 


172 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Well, I’ve no objection. And you are to boss the 
whole show, I conclude.” 

The music, yes ; so I can insure your being well 
placed. It will be an audience worth singing to ; 
they expect a lot of people down from town.” 

I don’t like Lady Gilderdale,” said Em, toying 
delicately with a rissole ; she makes me feel pinch- 
beck somehow.” 

Is she so awfully smart ? ” inquired Ethel. 

That depends on how you use the word. In the 
American sense, I should say not; in the dictionary 
sense, most decidedly not, quite the other thing ; but 
in the newest sense — eh. Dodge ? ” 

“ Well, they are quite the most swagger people we 
have got down in these parts, but they are awfully 
quiet. I don’t know what Em means. She looks as 
smart again, in all her little furbelows.” 

That’s all you know about it. Why, when her 
Ladyship draws that ancient lace, that looks as if it 
had lain in a cedar chest for a couple of hundred years, 
up about her throat and glances towards me — she 
never really looks at you — I simply shrivel up and 
confess that I am imitation from the crown of my 
head to the sole of my foot.” 

Who is this very magnificent lady ? ” inquired 
Ethel. 

She is not magnificent at all,” said Redway ; 
that is the funny part of it — a little proud, perhaps, 
but very quiet and simple ; and you should just hear 
how meek they all three are when I am coaching 
them.” 

** Oh, I daresay. Musically they would lie down in 
the dust and let you walk over them, I don’t doubt. 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


173 

Well, I don’t mind singing for them ; I suppose they 
will pay me well.” 

Roger looked at his watch and sprang up. I must 
have my Betty,” he said. ‘‘ I have to be off in ten 
minutes. I’ll go and bring her myself.” 

In a few minutes he reappeared and set her down 
just within the door : a wee mite of a child, clad in a 
‘‘ Kate Greenaway ” garment, elaborately smocked, 
that reached almost to her toes, with a wide falling 
collar encircling the tiny neck and a string of amber 
beads. She toddled forward with great alacrity and 
self-possession. 

‘‘ Oh, you darling ! ” cried the aunt. Come and 
kiss me. What a tiny mite she is ! Oh, Em, why do 
you dress her so old ? She ought to be in baby 
things.” 

The fantastic if not the grotesque is the only style 
for Betty. I flatter myself I have done rather well 
with that smock. In white baby-frocks she would look 
even uglier than she is. Besides she is so awfully 
precocious with her tongue and her feet, and know- 
ing ! — She is rather funny as she is, but as a baby 
she’d be a dead failure.” 

“ She’ll be all right when she fills out a bit,” said 
Ethel, and she has good eyes at any rate.” 

Oh, do you think so ? I think them so uncanny. 
They make me wonder sometimes how much she 
knows. Come here, you imp.” 

The child looked roguishly out of the corners of 
her eyes without moving. Ethel tried ta take her on 
her lap, but she shook her shoulders. ‘‘ Nun, nun, 
nun ! ” she cried angrily. 

‘‘ I don’t believe she’ll come to anyone’s knee but 


174 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


mine/' said her father. Em always protests she 
won't have her made a lap-dog of, but I nurse her a 
bit sometimes. Betty " — he held out his hand to her 
— come and tell me what you are." 

Uggy 'ittle dirl," responded Betty promptly, with 
cheerful philosophy, sidling round the table, steady- 
ing herself with her little claw-like hands on the edge. 

Nothing of the sort ! " cried Roger, rather vexed. 
'' Try again, Betty." 

Daddy's own dirl," as he took her up and she 
snuggled her head into his waistcoat. Now dive 
Betty goo-goo." 

Cupboard love," laughed Em. 

I am not so sure. Would you believe " — turn- 
ing to his sister-in-law — this wife of mine is so ter- 
ribly afraid of not being original that she pretends 
she doesn't like her own daughter ; but Betty and I 
know better, don't we ? " as he stroked the little rough 
head. 

You can keep up an affectation to that effect if it 
amuses you. Now I put it to you, Ethel, as a rea- 
sonable woman — which you used to be ; I am not 
sure if you are now — Is one bound to express en- 
thusiastic admiration for a remarkably wizened and 
under-sized brat, because for one's sins she happens 
to be one's own ? It is one of the middle-class con- 
ventions I especially abhor. I think it is so bourgeois 
of Roger to make such a fuss with the baby. I never 
did care for babies ; I always thought they would be 
a nuisance, and since mine from an artistic point of 
view is a failure as well, I don't see why I should not 
admit it." 

Roger said nothing, but his mind went back in- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


175 


voluntarily to a morning a few weeks ago, when he 
had seen Lady Gilderdale’s child. He saw that beau- 
tiful stately woman, whom most people thought proud 
and cold, sheltering in her arm the poor little mis- 
shapen idiot whom Heaven had been pleased to afflict 
her with. There had been no feigning in the tender 
tones which had made him think of the note of the 
wood-dove murmuring to her young. He kissed 
Betty and set her down. 

I must be going, ’’ he said. Life is such a rush 
just now, Ethel, I don’t seem to have had time to say 
anything to you. If you want any advice or help in 
your arrangements you must let me know. And look 
here, would you care for me to come to Southampton 
to see you off? Fll make time for it, if you would.” 

Could you really? Wouldn’t it be asking too 
much of you? You see it does feel a little bit lonely 
going off like this.” 

'' Of course I’ll come. I’d have offered before, only 
you all seem so terribly independent nowadays, I 
didn’t know but you would be affronted. I think 
it is so plucky of you, going out by yourself, and so 
wise; it would have put Hancock to a lot of expense 
if he had had to come home and fetch you. Well, I 
shall keep my good wishes till then, and only say au 
revoirJ^ 

When he was gone Ethel turned to her sister. I 
do think you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she 
said. 

Em laughed. My dear girl, please remember I 
told you those were mare’s nests you were so bent on 
discovering.” 


XVII. 


Roger was out of sorts, not to say out of temper. 
He had not been well all the summer; the heat had 
been excessive, and the languid air of Pinecliff had 
tried him, as it is apt to try strong people more than 
weakly ones. He certainly had had too much to do, 
but he was not so much overworked as over-hurried 
— a far worse thing. Trusting in his bicycle to anni- 
hilate time and space, he had accepted about twice 
as many engagements as he could fulfil properly, with 
the result that he was always late, and the continual 
effort to catch up got upon his nerves. He had a 
feeling, rather unreasonable under the circumstances, 
that he was bound to make up to Emmie for her dis- 
appointment as to any inheritance from his father, 
though he knew all the time that in frittering himself 
away upon overmuch teaching, he was being penny- 
wise and pound-foolish; for he left himself no time 
for the cultivation of his own talent, no time to keep 
the continual polish upon his faculties which was nec- 
essary if they were not to become tarnished, no time 
to keep pace with what was doing in the musical 
world. Most of his evenings now were occupied; 
when they were not he was too thoroughly tired out 
to do anything but fall asleep over the paper. 

He would not own it, but he longed for the old 
days when he was First Violin at the Palm-house. 
He used to think it a grind, but the continual study 

176 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


177 


and practice of new music with his peers did far more 
for his own development and was infinitely more 
pleasurable than the drudgery of driving the rudi- 
ments into the heads of eternal children, of whom only 
one here and there could ever be made a musician. 
Unconfessedly he longed for Graham Knowles and 
the fertilising intercourse of mind with mind. A 
blight seemed to have fallen upon those new powers 
which had been putting forth bud and blossom at 
Tristerwood. He fancied he read disappointment in 
the faces there when he went, as he still did, to prac- 
tise, and heard his own playing with their ears. That 
cut him to the quick, but he had got into a mill-round 
and could not get out. 

A less clever woman than his wife might have seen 
what ailed him; a more sympathetic one would have 
managed and soothed her irritable musician, would 
have contrived leisure for him, or at least moments 
of restfulness, and so might have tided him over a 
difficult time. She, however, thought that, like a frac- 
tious child, he ought not to be humoured, and rasped 
him on principle. Moreover, she had her personal 
grievance against him, and bitterly resented it. Mrs. 
Temple-Smith’s friend, Valentine Garcia, had told her 
that if she still wished it, he could obtain for her a 
small part in the Geisha ” in a provincial touring 
company ; the manager was a friend of his, and it might 
prove a good opening. And Roger had put his foot 
down and forbidden her to accept it. He too knew the 
manager, and knew something of the company, and 
they were not people he cared to have his wife mixed 
up with. Moreover, he did not choose to have her 
indebted to Garcia. It would have been wiser if he 


178 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


had put his objections before her candidly, but he un- 
luckily offended her by telling her bluntly that she was 
not equal to it, either by training or physique ; if she 
did not break down in a week, which was probable, 
she would never get beyond minor parts. After this 
she would not listen to a word. 

Perhaps Em was not altogther to blame for begin- 
ning to fancy that her husband’s affection for her had 
waned. In the daily familiarity of wedded life, the 
worship and observance of early days had worn out, 
to be replaced by a certain brusqueness and masterful- 
ness that belonged to him. He made considerable 
demands upon his wife, and expected his wishes to be 
carried out as a matter of course. His was an exact- 
ing personality, with a dominant note of egotism in it, 
and Em’s was too much of the same order to accom- 
modate itself. Then too, whereas at first he had found 
a certain piquancy in her coldness and perversities, he 
now began to resent them, and assert his own rights 
a little more roughly. These grievances were carried 
to Emmie’s new friend, and interpreted by her accord- 
ing to her own views. 

Ah, Cherie/' she said, it is what we all find. 
While you are a new toy, a man cannot do too much 
for you; by and by, when he has got used to your 
beauty and ceases to care for it, he wants a mere 
drudge. You must assert yourself bravely.” 

I do,” said Emmie; I never allow myself to be 
put upon.” 

I wish,” said Portia, looking at her with mesmeric 
eyes, I wish I could inspire you with courage to act 
as I should act in such a case. Your example might 
prove a blessing to thousands.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


179 


Em kindled. Perhaps I will some day.’' 

But now Mrs. Temple-Smith had left Pinecliff, and 
Em felt that she stood alone. 

One morning Roger came in earlier than usual ; a 
postponed lesson gave him an unlooked-for hour of 
leisure. Emmie was practising, and went on, not re- 
garding his entrance. He walked about the room with 
his hands in his pockets for a minute, took up a book 
and read a few pages, standing, then flung it down. 

I wish to Heaven, Em, you would have the sense 
to stick to the music that suits you. What on earth 
have you got hold of there ? ” 

He glanced over her shoulder, then sang in an ab- 
surd falsetto: 

“ See where the aspens quiver 
And poppies yearn with pain; 

For the mists are on the river, 

And the moon is on the wane.” 

He turned to the title-page. '' Red Poppies,” by 
Valentine Garcia. Inscribed to Mrs. Redway — '' Rose 
Alba.” — Pshaw ! It is a mystery to me how a fellow 
who can play as he can, could bring his mind down 
to such tommy-rot as that. The music matches the 
words : I will say that for him.” 

Em’s cheeks grew as red as the poppies as she 
snatched the song out of his hand, and flung it skim- 
ming along the top of the piano. 

‘‘ It is quite out of your line, I admit,” she remarked. 

The critique in The Lyre last week said it was throb- 
bing with poetic sensibility.” 

Roger laughed mockingly. I’ll give the composer 
some more poetic lines to set to music for you. How 
would this do? 


i8o 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


If only to-day were to-morrow, 

And yesterday followed to-day, 

My sadness would turn into sorrow, 

My vanity vanish away.” 

‘‘ I suppose you think that is witty,’’ said Em, turn- 
ing half round. To me it is simply silly.” 

Oh, I don’t lay claim to the wit. Look at Punch 
for the week before last. I can’t stand that style of 
sentiment.” 

‘‘ Nor any style of sentiment — in music. Do you 
know it came round to me the other day what your 
friend Lady Gilderdale thinks of your playing. She 
said to somebody : " Oh, he plays very well, but I don’t 
care for it; he has no feeling.’ They think you a mere 
machine.” 

That stung, but he had too much personal dignity 
to reply to it. He gnawed his moustache for a mo- 
ment; then he recovered command of himself. 

Seriously, Em, you’ll damage your voice if you 
force it into Garcia’s gush. It doesn’t suit you a bit. 
Go back to your old French Chansons and things of 
that sort. I want you to practise ‘ Si tu Savais ’ for 
Tristerwood next week, and you must be at your best ; 
it is to be a big thing. You have quite roughened your 
upper register, trying to pump up passion that isn’t 
in your little bird-trills at all. Try and smooth it out 
by a little gentle practice.” 

I am not going to sing " Si tu Savais ’ at Trister- 
wood. I intend to sing Mr. Garcia’s Rondo and 
Triolet.” 

My good girl, you’ll do nothing of the kind. I 
have the arrangement of the Tristerwood programme. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


i8i 


and I shall take good care to put you down for things 
I know you can sing/' 

I certainly shall not be dictated to because I have 
the misfortune to be your wife. I shall tell Sir Hervey 
what I mean to sing, and if he does not wish for those 
things he can' engage somebody else ; I shall not ap- 
pear." 

‘‘ Misfortune or not, you'll have to do what I tell 
you ! " cried Roger angrily. I won't have you make 
a fool of yourself or me at Tristerwood." And he went 
out, slamming the door behind him. 

Matters did not go very smoothly with him that 
afternoon ; he had a bad headache, and the self-control 
so needful in a teacher of music, had been rudely 
shaken. First he had a lengthy worrying practice of 
concerted music in a girls' school. The principal 
was a lady of some ambition, and aspired to create 
a regular Ladies' Orchestra out of insufficient ma- 
terial. When he insisted on teaching the young ladies 
things within their capacity, she blamed him for keep- 
ing them back, and wondered why they were not al- 
lowed to study music suitable for the Queen's Hall. 
On this occasion she detained him nearly twenty 
minutes while she expounded her views. Then he 
spent an hour over a beginner with no ear, and another 
with a sensitive young woman who wept when he 
scolded her. As tears and tempers seemed to dog his 
steps, he began to think he must be taking after old 
Doctor Redway, who had an appalling reputation, 
and of whom a story passed current in Dronechester, 
that he once in his rage shut the piano down upon the 
hands of a particularly dense pupil, and nearly broke 
her wrists. Luckily for learners, that style of maestro 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


182 

is now out of date, and Roger felt that he must deny 
himself any such relief to his feelings. 

He did not get in to tea, but that he rarely had time 
for; and that night he had to dine rather early, as 
he was playing at a concert at a distance. He looked 
into the drawing-room on his way up to dress. 
Emmie was sitting in a low chair beside the fire, in 
her morning-dress, her pretty feet on a hassock, and 
an air about her whole person of not having the small- 
est intention of moving. The dancing firelight gave 
a warmer glow than usual to her soft cheek, and threw 
reddish lights on the folds of her purple gown. She 
was reading a novel; she just glanced up at his en- 
trance, then went on with her book. He made up his 
mind to show no remembrance of their little tiff of the 
morning. 

‘‘ What, not dressed, Em ! Why, aren’t you coming 
with me? I thought you wanted to hear Clara Butt.” 

She shrugged her shoulders. I don’t feel inclined 
to turn out, thanks. It’s cold, isn’t it? ” 

Yes, the nights begin to feel wintry. Well, just 
as you please of course. I must go and dress.” 

Presently his impatient voice was heard calling from 
the floor above : 

Em! Em! Where are my gold studs? You’ve not 
put me anything out.” 

She intended to take no notice, but habit was too 
strong; she had got to the foot of the stairs before 
she remembered. 

I suppose they are where you put them when you 
took them off last time.” 

Well, but I don’t know where my things are. 
Look here, you’ve not so much as laid me out a clean 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


183 


shirt, and there you sit doing nothing. How am I 
to get dressed in time? And my shaving-water hardly 
off the chill.” 

Em sailed up with wonderful stateliness for her 
inches, and stood at the dressing-room door. 

‘‘ You had better understand once for all,” she said, 

that I have my own concerns to attend to, and I 
don't see why I am to waste my time looking after 
yours. If you want to be waited on hand and foot, 
you had better engage a valet.” 

He whistled. ‘‘ Sulking still about Garcia's songs ; 
silly little woman,” he said to himself. Well, it would 
probably take longer now to make his wife find his 
things than to find them himself, so he accepted de- 
feat for the moment, and came down to dinner with 
neither headache nor temper much improved. He in- 
tended to make it up with his wife, but to have to 
struggle into a dress suit and adjust a white tie cor- 
rectly in seven minutes and a half, does not leave much 
time for propitiatory scenes, and Emmie was already 
at the table when he got down, and the servant in and 
out of the room; so he ate a hasty dinner almost in 
silence, and had to hurry away before the pudding 
was carried out. His fresh exasperation had had time 
to cool, and he did not want to go out without a word : 
he looked in again, struggling half into his overcoat, 
while she was still toying with her plate. 

You need not sit up for me,” he said; I may very 
likely be late. Gregson wanted me to have supper 
with him after the concert, and as you are not coming, 
I may as well: so I shan't want anything. You can 
turn the gas out, and just put me a candle and 
matches.” 


i84 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


She took no notice, and he finished hoisting on his 
coat and came in. 

Em.’^ 

She just turned her head a little inquiringly. He 
went up behind her and put his hands on her shoul- 
ders to make her look at him. “ Do you know you 
have been very cross to me all day? '' he said. ‘‘ Make 
it up before I go out.'' 

He stooped his face to her, but before his lips could 
reach hers, they were brushed aside by a stinging flick 
more like a blow than he cared to think. He drew 
back. 

‘‘ You little spit-fire! " he said. 

As he ran up-stairs to fetch his forgotten cigarettes, 
some impulse made him, late though it was, spring 
up the next flight to the nursery to snatch one look 
at the baby, whom he had not seen since the morning. 
She was sitting on her nurse's lap before the fire, 
drowsily counting her own pink toes, too sleepy even 
to clamour to him to take her, as she always did at 
sight of him. 

What, not in bed ? " he cried. Why, I thought 
you always put her to bed at six." 

‘‘ Mistress did not wish her put to bed so early to- 
night," said the girl. I don't know why, I am sure ; 
for she never cares to bathe her herself like some 
ladies. Don't rouse her up, please, sir; I was just 
getting her off to sleep." 

I won't rouse her." He knelt down an instant 
and kissed the little drowsy face and the wee toes, and 
raced down-stairs again. He was glad afterwards that 
he had gone up. 

The concert was a weariness to him; the pro- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


iBS 

gramme seemed ill-chosen, the audience unsympa- 
thetic. He played badly, and he knew it and did not 
care. Only he was glad none of the Tristerwood party 
were there. All the time he was fretting to get back 
to Em and make it up. They had had many a little 
tiff before, but never so decided a quarrel as this. Was 
it possible she really resented his strictures on Garcia? 
He did not like to think so; he hated the very idea 
that Em should take so much interest in any other 
man as to mind what he said about him. He had never 
felt jealousy before; he had had no cause: Emmie's 
indifferent temperament and his own self-confidence 
had kept him from that ; now for the first time he felt 
the agonising grip of suspicion. Could it be that 
Garcia was in Pinecliff, and she knew it, and was ex- 
pecting him that evening? He was a man who went 
and came as the whim took him; he was supposed 
to be abroad, but what was to hinder his having re- 
turned? Then with a strong effort Roger thrust the 
notion from him. What cause had he to imagine any 
such thing? None. He would not insult Em nor 
humiliate himself by letting such a thing rest in his 
mind for an instant. 

After all, the words they had had about the song 
were only the proximate cause of the quarrel. There 
had been friction for a long time, and now, as he 
looked back, he saw that they were drifting into an 
estrangement. He would not let it happen ; he could 
not bear it. With all her whims, her perversities, she 
was his treasure, his heart's delight. He was furiously 
angry with her for the way she had received his over- 
tures, but angry or not, he could not grow cold to her. 
He was longing impatiently to get home, to take her 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


i86 

in his arms, and make her ashamed in spite of herself. 
In good sooth he knew that he had been selfish and 
cross and dictatorial lately; if he admitted as much 
on his side, she might surely yield something on hers. 

He was very poor company at the supper, and got 
away as early as he could. It was not so very late ; per- 
haps she would be sitting up for him after all, repen- 
tant, sweet, with kisses to make good that blow. He 
pictured it to himself as he fitted the key into the lock. 
But the hall was dark. He closed the door and groped 
his way to the table — no matches! However, a man 
who smokes is rarely without the wherewithal to get 
a light. The vesta he struck revealed the fact that 
there was no candlestick either, and his reviving ten- 
derness was checked by annoyance that his wife’s tan- 
trums should take the form of a petty and irritating 
neglect. His hands were cold, and just as the vesta 
went out and he was about to strike another, he let 
fall the box. It really seemed as if it had dropped 
clean out of the universe; he felt and felt for it in vain, 
and at last gave it up and groped his way up to the bed- 
room, astonished at finding the door open. There was 
a sensation of chill emptiness, and he stumbled over 
a chair in an unaccustomed position. 

The noise must have wakened a sleeper, but there 
was no sound from the bed. 

'' Em,” he cried, '' Em, are you awake? ” 

No answer. A horrible dread came upon him lest 
his house might have been broken into in his absence, 
lest he might find — His heart almost stopped beat- 
ing, and it seemed an endless nightmare till he could 
fumble his way to the dressing-table and feel about 
for matches. A light at last, and he turned to the bed 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


187 


sick with apprehension, and for a second or two un- 
able to see anything for the dazzle of sudden light. 
Then it cleared. The embroidered coverlet lay smooth 
and undisturbed, the pillow undinted, not a rumple 
anywhere; clearly Em had not been in bed at all. 
Something must have happened; the baby must be 
ill. He sprang up-stairs, two steps at a time. All was 
silent; the nursery door was locked. He hammered 
loudly upon it and called : Em, Em, are you there ? '' 

Presently a sleepy frightened voice : ‘‘ Good lawks ! 
Whatever is it? Is the house afire?'" 

No, no. Where's your mistress? Is anything the 
matter with the baby ? " 

‘‘ The baby is gone with her mamma, to be sure. 
Didn't you know, sir? " 

‘‘ What ! I can't hear you. Get up and come and 
speak to me." 

“ Wait a minute then, sir, and I'll come." 

There was the sound of a match scraping, and the 
thud of heavy shoeless feet upon the floor. He drew 
back and sat down on the top of the attic stair, leaning 
against the little gate which had been put to keep 
Betty's toddling footsteps from straying into danger. 

Gone — ^with her mamma ! What could the girl have 
meant? He tried to keep himself from thinking, from 
wondering. Perhaps one of Em's sisters was ill ; some 
hasty summons must have come while he was out — 
But then, why take the child? 

In a minute the servant came out onto the landing, 
her tousled hair falling over her eyes, her gown but- 
toned all awry over her nightdress, and a shawl on. 
He rose to his feet with a sort of instinct that if he 
had ill news to meet, he would sooner take it standing. 


i88 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


'' Well, sir, I don’t know what to say, I’m sure,” 
she began, on the defensive before he had opened his 
lips. ‘‘ Missis never give me no message.” 

‘‘ Where is your mistress ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know, sir. She never said where she was 
going, to me nor yet to cook. Directly minute you 
was gone, she come up-stairs and told me to dress 
Miss Betty in her pelisse and her second-best bonnet, 
and Cook was to call a cab. And that’s all I know, if 
you was to ask me till the day of judgment.” 

Do you mean she has gone away?” he repeated, 
dazed. 

‘‘Yes, sir; gone away in a cab as I tell you; her 
and Miss Betty too, and I heard her tell the man East 
Station.” 

“ Did she get any letter or telegram? ” 

“ No, sir : the post was in before you left, don’t you 
remember? And you got all them circulars, and there 
wasn’t no telegram come. There wasn’t time after you 
was gone : she come straight up-stairs as you banged 
the door.” 

“ Did she take any luggage with her ? ” 

“ Oh law, yes, sir. Her dress-basket and a port- 
manteau and her bonnet-box and another box with 
the baby’s things. She was packing all the afternoon. 
She pushed the little things under the bed when they 
was finished, out of the way, and her dress-basket 
always did stand under the window, you remember; 
you wouldn’t notice that, not when it was shut down. 
I’m surprised you took no heed of the box in the 
nursery when you come up ; but there, gentlemen 
never notices anything, and ’twasn’t my place to say 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 189 

nothing. Besides, how was I to know she was going 
away unbeknown to you ? 

His lips went very white. Packing all the after- 
noon! She must have meant it then, and planned it 
all beforehand. Why — oh, why? But he could not 
stop to think of that yet. 

'' Call the cook,'' he said. 

What, now, sir? In the middle of the night? " 

'' Of course. Do you think I am going to bed with- 
out getting to the bottom of this ? " 

In a very few minutes Ellen reappeared with the 
cook, who seemed to be more excited and pleased at 
being mixed up in what promised to be an interesting 
mystery than annoyed at having her slumbers dis- 
turbed. She corroborated the statements of the other, 
but had nothing to add beyond having overheard 
something about catching the eight-twenty, and a 
gratuitous speculation of her own relative to '' that 
long-haired gent that used to come so often in the 
summer " — a speculation that Roger silenced an- 
grily. 

It was all very well for him to say that he would 
not rest till he had got to the bottom of the mystery, 
but so far it appeared to be bottomless, and till morn- 
ing there was but little that he could do. He dismissed 
the two servants to their interrupted slumbers, though 
they were more than willing to help him in his investi- 
gations; he preferred to carry them on alone. He 
resolved to search the house carefully for any clue 
as to the reason of Em's going. She might have 
left a letter for him somewhere; he would rather look 
without those prying maids. 

The dining-room was precisely as he had left it, ex- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


190 

cept that the dinner had been carried out; the cloth 
was left on ready for breakfast, according to a slovenly 
habit Ellen indulged in when she thought her mistress 
would not catch her. There was nothing on it but the 
flowers and a few knives and forks. Nothing on the 
writing-table, nothing in the blotting-book. In the 
drawing-room he missed a few things : all Em’s songs 
were gone from the music-waggon they shared. They 
had been sorted out from among his things, and the 
latter were tidier than they had been for a long while. 
Several photographs of her special friends were miss- 
ing too. 

In her own room the look of disorder that follows 
a hasty packing was evident, and he wondered that 
he had not noticed before the absence of her little 
array of silver-backed brushes, her powder-puff and 
button-hook — the dressing-table looked so bare with- 
out them. All her drawers and hanging-cupboards 
were empty, and the little frilled bag containing her 
night-dress was gone from her pillow. She had 
cleared everything as if she had gone away — to stay. 

Ah ! there was something left ; a little pair of half- 
worn slippers, too shabby to be worth taking. He 
caught one up and drew a long sobbing breath ; then 
a gust of anger swept over him, and he flung it 
violently away. 

No, there was no note, no message, no clue why she 
had gone. Had she wanted to break his heart, or had 
she thought he would not care? 

His search had taken him a long while, and when it 
was over and there was no more that he could do, he 
realised how tired, how dreadfully tired he was. He 
would sooner have lain down in his grave than in that 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


19I 

room out of which she had vanished. He went down- 
stairs again and threw himself, dressed, on the dining- 
room sofa, with a rug over him, listening, wide-eyed, 
to the striking of the clocks, hour after hour, and 
watching for the dawn; now and thert sinking down 
just so near sleep as to come back with a start to won- 
der what had happened to him, and why he was there. 


XVIII. 


Ercolani, as it chanced, had occasion to see Knowles 
privately before the morning rehearsal, about some 
business of his own; so he went round to his house 
early with that intent. Some one else was before- 
hand with him, however; he found the Infant on the 
doorstep, kicking his toes against the scraper. Bertie 
had grown very tall this last year, quite beyond the 
possibility of Eton jackets any longer, but his name 
of Infant Prodigy still stuck to him. He made himself 
useful to the Conductor, in various capacities, and was 
apt to give himself airs of being indispensable on the 
strength of it. The Italian nodded to him, not over- 
pleased. 

The Boss seems to be having quite a levee this 
morning,’’ Bertie remarked. There’s somebody with 
him now. I heard them talking awfully loud; the 
dining-room window is not quite shut.” 

At that moment the door opened. The servant 
looked doubtful. 

I don’t know whether master can see you, I’m 
sure; he’s engaged just this minute. Master Wills, 
you had better step inside and wait in the hall.” 

I’ll wait too,” said Ercolani. Tell him I want 
to see him for one moment; I won’t detain him long.” 

‘Wery well, sir. — Oh my!” as sounds of a rather 
unusual nature made themselves heard from the room 
behind her. First a voice raised in a tone of con- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


193 


temptuous anger: I don’t know where your wife is, 
and if you don’t, the more shame to you;” then a 
bound, a scuffle, and a crashing fall. 

The Italian was in the room first, and with the 
deftness of a man not unused to scenes of violence, 
seized the aggressor by the arms from behind. It 
was Redway, panting, crimson, beside himself with 
rage, and struggling to free his pinioned arms, though 
he had no intention of again attacking his adversary, 
who had not yet risen to his feet, having fallen partly 
under the table, and dragged down the corner of the 
cloth with two or three cups and plates, and being 
more or less entangled with the debris. It was per- 
haps as well, or a fight must have ensued. The maid, 
looking in behind Ercolani, began to utter piercing 
shrieks of Murder! Help! 

Be quiet, will you!” cried Ercolani. ^^We don’t 
want the whole town in. Wills, take her away.” 

And Knowles, beginning to emerge, called out, 
Hold your tongue, woman, and leave the room! ” 
The Infant, with great presence of mind, closed with 
the hysterical Anne, who was about to improve the 
situation by becoming rigid, and conducted her with 
his arm round her waist to the top of the basement 
stairs, where he pushed her inside and bolted the door. 
Then he returned to the scene of the fray, with curi- 
osity no less keen than hers. 

Knowles was in the act of struggling to his feet, 
with the look of furious shame of the man who has 
been knocked down, and with a coughing and choking 
in his throat that spoke of some one’s knuckles there 
a minute before. 

Ercolani still kept his grip of his prisoner, though 


194 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


the strong young sinews could have shaken off those 
weak slight arms in a moment; but, the sudden im- 
pulse of fury slaked, Redway had no desire to in- 
flict further damage on the man who had mocked 
him. He let himself be pushed out of the room. The 
Italian looked back over his shoulder to see the other 
on his legs again. 

You are not hurt? ” he asked curtly. 

" Oh, he is ! '' cried the Infant. '' Look, his head 
is all bleeding.'' 

‘‘ It's nothing," said Knowles sullenly, pressing a 
handkerchief against a cut In the side of his temple. 

I must have struck the foot of the table in falling." 

Shall I go for the doctor? " said Bertie, always 
ready for an errand. I'm sure it ought to be sewn 
up." 

‘‘Nonsense! A basin of water and some sticking- 
plaster are all I want. You can get me those if you 
will." He sat down and leaned his elbow on the 
table: he was feeling rather sick and giddy. “And 
for goodness' sake, somebody go and quiet those 
wretched maids." For Anne and her colleague, find- 
ing themselves imprisoned in the basement, were set- 
ting up a duet of the most unmelodious character. 
“ Tell them there is nothing earthly the matter — a lit- 
tle horse-play, and I caught my foot. Don't let them 
come near me, mind." 

Bertie went off delighted with his errand, which he 
performed very effectually by first throwing a pail of 
water over the pair, and then coolly rummaging in 
Anne's work-box, amongst all her treasures and love- 
tokens, for a piece of sticking-plaster. Ercolani mean- 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


195 

while had pushed Redway, unresisting, out of the 
front door. 

You wait here a moment,'’ he said, relaxing his 
grip. ‘‘ I must go back and speak a word to Knowles, 
and just see the extent of the damage." 

He re-entered the room. Let me look," he said, 
removing the handkerchief. It bleeds still, but I 
don't think you will want those surgical needles the 
Infant was so anxious to see applied. It doesn't seem 
deep, but there is a bruise further back. Are you 
hurt anywhere else ? " 

No," he said sullenly, and muttered something 
between his teeth about a savage, unprovoked 
assault." 

'' What was it all about? I thought you had noth- 
ing to do with Redway since — " 

No, nor with his wife either. The insolence of his 
daring to come here and ask me — " 

“What do you mean? What is to do with his 
wife?" 

“ She has left him — bolted.” 

“ Left him! Poor fellow; I expect he is more than 
half beside himself. You might have had pity on him." 

“Pity! A worthless cold-hearted little minx he is 
well rid of! " said Knowles vindictively. 

“ I'll wager he doesn't think so, poor lad. Now 
then — " as Bertie re-entered with a basin and towel, 
a small bit of sticking-plaster and a huge pair of scis- 
sors — “ now let me see if I can plaster up this place 
for you. Hold still! " 

“Let alone; the Infant can do that. You go after 
that hot-headed young fool, or he'll be doing some- 
thing to himself next,” 


196 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


'' Very well. Shall I tell Dacre to conduct for you 
this morning? Headache, I suppose?^’ 

Better say I have had a slight accident: the plas- 
ter will betray me.'' 

As he went, Ercolani beckoned the boy into the pas- 
sage. 

“ Look here. Infant, not a word outside these doors, 
mind." 

The lad's face fell a little. Already he had been re- 
hearsing in imagination a thrilling history of how he 
had rushed in and helped to separate the combatants 
before murder was committed — with certain reserves 
of course, but still circumstantial enough to arouse an 
absorbing interest. The excitement of participation 
was robbed of half its charm. 

The Italian took him by the shoulder, and gave him 
a little shake. You mind what I say! " 

Well, of course I don't want to go blabbing like 
a girl; but you don't suppose the thing is going to be 
hushed up, with those two screaming women in the 
kitchen? " 

“ Very likely not, but it is not to get about through 
you or me. There's a certain loyalty due from us 
both." 

Oh, all right. Perhaps after all," he could not re- 
sist adding, I know more about it than you do." 
For he remembered about the bangle, and shut his 
lips tight with an air of mystery. 

Ercolani was just going out of the door when the 
boy rushed after him again. 

'' Oh, I say, you don't think Knowles will set the 
police on him, do you ? " 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


197 

No, you little fool. I should say he will want it 
forgotten.'' 

''Because he'll be an awful sneak if he does; you 
know Dodge saved his life." 

" I know. Now don't waste time talking. You go 
back to your man and let me see after mine." 

He hardly thought Roger would have waited, but 
he had, being in truth too dazed to know what next to 
do. He stood by the gate, savagely beheading the 
tall sunflowers and Japanese anemones as though 
they had been evil weeds. He looked round at the 
sound of footsteps, with a smouldering wrath in his 
eyes. 

" Well," he said in a harsh tone, " I haven't killed 
him, I suppose." 

" No, and I don't suppose you meant to, unless 
you're quite mad. What on earth could have pos- 
sessed you to attack him? The very last man in the 
world, I should think, to wrong you in the way you 
suspect." 

" I did not suspect him. I mow well enough he 
has neither heart nor courage enough to have robbed 
me. I went to him to demand the address of the man 
I do suspect, and when he refused it and scoffed at 
what has befallen me, I just went for him." 

Ercolani's heart was full of pity, but he felt that 
Redway's mood was too savage to bear any expres- 
sion of it just then. He only said: " Can I do anything 
for you? " 

" Get that address out of him. I had better not go 
back; but I don't mean to leave this house without 
it." 

Whose is it? Whom do you suspect? " 


198 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Valentine Garda/’ 

But he is in the south of France/’ 

Are you sure of that ? ” 

Certain. And moreover Knowles does not know 
his address. I heard him say he must wait till he 
heard from Garcia, to fix the date of the new Con- 
certo, as he did not know where to write : so you can’t 
get it from him.” 

It is to be found somewhere I suppose. And 
wherever he is, I mean to track him down.” 

But look here; have you any reason to conclude 
he is the man you want?” 

Roger gave a mirthless laugh. Not the slightest, 
except that he is the only one I can think of. I haven’t 
a shadow of proof: no one went away with her. She 
simply vanished out of the house, and such things 
don’t happen unless — ” 

Well,” said the other, what do you mean to 
do?” 

Do? How should I know? What does one do in 
such a case ? ” 

There are agencies,” began Ercolani slowly. 

‘‘Agencies be d — d!” shouted Roger. “Do you 
think I would set hounds to track her down?” 

“ You might make inquiries at the station, and find 
out what place she took her ticket for.” 

“ Of course ; that is what I meant to do, but I am 
in such a maze.” 

“ Let me go with you : I might be of use.” 

“ All right,” said Redway ungraciously, without the 
smallest expression of thanks. “ I suppose you think 
I am not to be trusted not to fell the porters.” 

“Well, I think the less you show in it the better. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


199 


You don’t want to make any row or scandal, as long 
as it is to be avoided, and you are naturally a bit ex- 
cited.” 

Excited ! I think I must be going mad,” he said 
very quietly. Every now and then it comes over me 
that I must be mad already, and have dreamed this: 
it could not possibly have happened. Em wasn’t like 
that; she never was that kind of woman.” 

Then he was silent, and kept silence till the station 
was reached. 

You wait out here,” said Ercolani. “ I will go in 
and ask; but first tell me what time it was, and what 
she was wearing.” 

In time for the eight-twenty train. She had on a 
purple gown with fur round her wrists.” His face 
contracted: he saw her so plainly, sitting by the fire, 
with the reddish light warming the purple folds. 

She would have her fur cloak — it was cold. And 
she must have been carrying the little girl: she did 
not take a maid.” 

‘‘ The little girl! Then you may depend upon it she 
has not gone to Garcia. I don’t say he might not 
lure away another man’s wife; but he is not the fel- 
low to saddle himself with another man’s child, how- 
ever much in love he might be.” 

Ercolani went in, and Redway sat himself down on 
the handles of a luggage-barrow, picking holes in the 
asphalt with his stick. In a minute his friend came 
out again. 

Had the child a red cap on? ” 

No,” cried Roger irritably, a bluey-green pelisse 
and a little bonnet to match. I had better come my- 
self.” 


200 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


It appeared that it was the last day of cheap tickets 
from town, and so many ladies carrying babies 
had gone up by that train that the ticket-clerk grew 
quite confused and nervous under Redway^s peremp- 
tory cross-examination. Only one traveller seemed 
to lend herself at all to the description of Em — the 
one with the red-capped baby, but it was a stopping 
train, and he could by no means recall to what sta- 
tion she had booked. He was inclined to think that 
if she had been going to town, she would have taken 
the seven-forty, which was an express; but Roger 
knew good reason why she should not have done that. 
Next they tried the porters, one of whom was certain 
he had labelled the lady’s luggage for Southampton. 
He had taken particular notice of the child: she was 
such a ’cute little party, something like his own little 
’un. 

'' Southampton ! ” said Roger, very white. There, 
Ercolani, you see. She could easily cross from South- 
ampton to Havre, go on to Paris, and catch the Lyons 
mail.” 

'' Well, go you to Southampton then, and inquire 
there, if it will ease your mind; but don’t go rushing 
off till you learn something definite. I wish I could 
go with you, but I must be off to rehearsal now.” 

Roger nodded, and parted from him without a syl- 
lable of thanks. He was past paying decent civilities 
to any one. 

It was something to be doing, to be in the train and 
in motion; the hedges and trees flying past gave a 
certain feeling of relief. It was a quick train, and he 
was soon at the Docks asking questions. It was much 
the same as at Pinecliff : so many ladies and so many 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


201 


babies, and no one could quite recollect where they 
had all gone to. To Roger it seemed that his own 
Em, his own Betty were so absolutely unlike any other 
woman and child in the universe that it was incredi- 
ble it should be so difficult to identify them. He sent 
a telegram to Havre to learn who had landed from last 
night's packet, and on the French side it appeared 
they were much more acute. He got an accurate 
description of every one in the least answering to his 
wife and child, but no one seemed to quite tally. The 
woman in the fur cloak with the red-capped baby, 
whom he had heard of at Pineclifif, had been among 
the passengers, but on close inquiry it transpired that 
she was tall. Still, French people's ideas of size in 
women were different from ours; perhaps the clue 
might be worth following up. As to the red cap, Em 
might easily have bought such a thing for the journey. 
There did not seem to have been any other child so 
young. Still it might be a wild-goose chase after all. 

The telegraph-clerk, who got quite interested, made 
the practical suggestion that Redway should wait till 
afternoon and interview the stewardess of the return- 
ing packet : if he learned that they had been on board, 
he could then cross in pursuit that night. It seemed 
an excellent suggestion — but how to get through 
those hideous waiting hours? He went to an 
hotel and ordered some lunch : it was at any 
rate something to do ; but when it came, he 
did little but look at it and pay for it. He drank a 
glass of beer, which made him feel a little more like 
himself, but in his state of suspense and nervous ten- 
sion, food made him sick. Then he roamed aimlessly 
along by the margin of the water till he came to an 


202 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


ancient stone bastion, the remains of some old forti- 
fication, where he sat him down among the snap- 
dragons and valerian, and lighted a pipe. That com- 
forted him a little, and took off the empty sinking feel- 
ing that was beginning to make him light-headed. 

There was a dense sea-fog; silvery ripples came 
noiselessly out of it and washed softly over the brown 
and golden mud-banks, for the tide was low. A little 
way off, everything was dim, gray, colourless; close 
beneath his eyes, the streaks of green and yellow and 
tawny brown showed vivid between the spaces of opal 
water. Now and then a momentary shifting of the 
mists disclosed a phantom city clustering in a forest 
of masts and chimneys, brooded over by dreaming 
spires rising out of the clouds. It seemed as though 
he had got to the edge of the world, and sat looking 
into space. His own life looked like that too : he had 
got to the edge of the known, the familiar, the com- 
prehensible ; and what was to come next, he saw no 
clearer than he did the outlines of those dim uncer- 
tain turrets. 

Presently he noticed that the water was lapping up 
against the stones below him; the tide was in then. 
He looked at his watch. Strange how slowly the 
time seemed to go. He held it to his ear. Of course ! 
He had forgotten to wind it up last night, and it had 
run down. He rushed back to the Docks, lest the 
boat might meanwhile have come in, but the official 
of whom he made inquiry laughed him to scorn. 

‘‘ In this fog, sir ? Likely ! However, it do seem 
to be lifting a bit. The wind may rise as the tide 
comes in, and she may get in later on.’" 

Nothing for it but patience then, and to that rest- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


203 


less impetuous nature, patience meant torture. To 
be doing something — anything — would have been en- 
durable; just to sit still and wait till some unknown 
indefinite moment when the fog might see fit to lift, 
seemed more than he could bear. Yet notwithstand- 
ing, he had to bear it, and it was nearly evening when 
some one came and told him the boat was in. 

The stewardess was French, and it was not easy to 
make her understand his excited, eager queries. At 
last she seemed to grasp what it was he wanted. 

“ Mais oui. I recollect myself perfectly ; ze tall lady 
avec la petite. Tres gentilles, mais trh gentilles toutes les 
deux! '' with evident remembrance of a handsome tip, 
and high hopes of another to follow. 

“Yes, yes, yes,’’ she continued volubly, “zay were 
met by a monsieur on ze quai, I vatch zem depart in 
one dacre. Ze monsieur, vhat he vas like? Ver’ grand 
gentlemans, great beard, comme ga, et grosT^ She 
spread out her hands in front of her waist to represent 
a rotundity which certainly was not Valentine 
Garcia’s. 

“ I don’t think it can have been they,” said Roger 
in a dull despairing tone. “ Tell me exactly what they 
were like.” 

“Ver’ pretty lady, ver’ tall wiv ze red hair, and la 
petite, a beautiful enfant like one wax doll.” 

Not even Roger’s fondness could recognise his 
skinny little Betty under this description. He had 
spent his whole day following a false scent. 

“ That could not have been they^’ he said. “ My 
wife is small and slight, and the little one, a tiny thing ; 
she did not look a year old. Were there no others? 
Try and think.” 


204 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Madame endeavoured to quicken recollection by 
placing a forefinger against her temple. Mais oui/' 
she resumed after a minute’s reflection, ‘‘ surely, there 
was one short lady, a little embonpoint y with a little girl 
about twelve year old, and also there was another lady 
with children, two little boys who were very sick — bad 
boys, those two.” 

Roger gave it up then. Clearly those he sought 
could not have been there, unless indeed Em had made 
it worth the stewardess’s while to lie to him ; but that 
seemed hardly likely, and when he had interviewed 
the two stewards also and the captain, and found their 
accounts of the passengers tally with hers, there 
seemed nothing for it but to go home. 

It was nearly eleven when he got to his own door. 
A figure muffled in a greatcoat and comforter was 
lingering near the gate, and stopped him as he turned 
in. 

“ How have you prospered ? ” said Ercolani’s husky 
voice. I could not go home without knowing 
whether you had got back by this train. I called as 
I went down to the concert, and they told me you had 
not come. I wondered if you had gone on to France.” 

‘‘ There was nothing to go on for, as far as I could 
make out. They certainly were not on board that 
boat. I have wasted one whole day.” 

He was fitting the latch-key into the door as he 
spoke. Ercolani hated to see him disappear alone into 
the dark cold house where no welcome awaited him. 
He felt desperately sorry for him and longed to tell 
him so, but the gruff curt manner daunted him. He 
did not like to seem intrusive. The genial open nature 
of the typical southerner was not his : perhaps he had 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


205 


lived so long in England that he had imbibed some- 
thing of English reserve along with the fog that had 
chilled his blood. He nodded a good-night and went 
his way. 

Although he was tired out, Roger found that going 
to bed that night was a failure. The empty place be- 
side him would not let him rest. He got up and 
dressed, after an hour or two's weary tossing, and 
roamed about the house. He had a good mind to take 
his fiddle and try whether music would relieve him, 
but a saving recollection of the Miss Meaburys with- 
held him. He could not risk having them appear in 
their nightcaps to remonstrate. He went into the din- 
ing-room and took a book — he who never read, and 
sat with his eyes on the page, and the outer crust of his 
mind following the words. Then he thought of 
Ercolani. He wondered if he had felt like this when 
his house was left to him desolate. No, no! his be- 
loved ones were dead: it was very different. He 
brought his hand down on the table. 

Would to God Em were dead before she had done 
this ! " 

Then he sprang up and began to tramp about the 
room. What an awful thing to say — to think 1 Was 
this how men felt who murdered their wives? Hor- 
rible visions came before him of his hands at her slim 
white throat, and he felt in every fibre that he would 
sooner murder her than know her in any other man's 
arms. 

The fit of passion wore itself out presently, and he 
sat down again. When Ellen came to open the din- 
ing-room shutters, she found him asleep with his head 
upon the table. 


XIX. 


I HAVE come, you see ; I have crossed the Rubi- 
con/' 

Em advanced with both hands stretched out, with 
something of appeal, something of triumph in her 
manner, a good deal the air of a child who has just 
committed some escapade, and does not know whether 
to boast of her courage or deprecate the consequences. 

'' Crossed the Rubicon, have you? " said Mrs. Tem- 
ple-Smith, rising from the breakfast-table with her 
hands full of letters, and kissing her visitor. “ And 
how much does that mean, pray? That you have 
come up on the loose for a week's shopping and 
theatres, I suppose? " 

‘‘ More than that a good deal," said Emmie, draw- 
ing up her slim throat. ‘‘ I have done as you said. I 
have taken my life in my own hands and asserted my 
freedom." 

When people follow our advice and embark on the 
course of action we have been urging upon them, they 
generally do it at the wrong time, and at this moment 
Portia felt inclined to wish that her young disciple 
had remained at home, minding her husband and baby. 
Since the time she was at Pinecliff lecturing, she had 
embarked in quite a fresh line of interests and occupa- 
tions, and just now was by no means disposed to adopt 
the cause of a run-away wife. 


206 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 20 / 

Well, sit down, my child, and have some break- 
fast. We will talk over your affairs afterwards.’' 

‘‘ Oh, I have had breakfast long ago, thanks. I 
ought to apologise for coming so early, but I felt I 
must come straight to you. But I am afraid I am in- 
truding. ril come another time.” She looked doubt- 
fully at the lady at the other end of the table who was 
cutting the ham, and regarding her with coldly curious 
eyes. 

‘‘Intruding! Not a bit. I must introduce you to 
my new secretary. Miss Orman. You two ought to be 
kindred spirits. Mrs. Redway is one of my Pioneers, 
Gage — as she has just proved herself in good sooth.” 

The two ladies, thus recommended to strike up a 
friendship, eyed each other with no great promise of 
amity — rather after the manner of two strange dogs, 
similarly introduced and in too much awe of their 
masters to fight. Gage Orman was of the type in 
which other women can see nothing to admire, and 
which men either dislike violently or go quite wild 
about. Artists of a certain very new school were never 
tired of drawing her; men of a less degree of culture 
had been known to call her ugly. Emmie leaned to 
the latter view of her personal attractions, but there 
was no question but that she knew how to dress. 

“ Well, dear,” continued the hostess, “ if you really 
won’t have anything to eat, sit down in the armchair 
and take your hat off.” 

Emmie never took off her hat casually : it was much 
too artistically combined with her hair. She sat down, 
however, and began to pull off her gloves. She was 
looking wonderfully pretty, with a light in her eyes 
and a pink colour in her cheeks: for the excitement 


2o8 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


of what she was doing quite took off the fatigue of 
her late journey. Her little fair head, crowned with 
a most becoming toque, rose out of a fluffy feather boa 
with a dainty effect. 

I mustn't stay long,'' she said. ‘‘We went to an 
hotel last night: for it was too late to find lodgings, 
and I left Betty with the chambermaid; so if I am 
too long gone she will think I have levanted, and give 
the baby to the police." 

“The baby!" cried Mrs. Temple-Smith. “You 
don't mean to say you have brought the baby ? " 

“ Of course I have. Why, my dear Mrs. Temple- 
Smith, what else was I to do with her? I couldn't 
leave her. Mr. Redway is out all day. I don't see 
what he could have done with a baby not eighteen 
months old." 

“ Well, I don't see what you are going to do with 
her any the more. What made you do it, I wonder? " 

Emmie herself would have been puzzled to say ex- 
actly what made her elect to take Betty. Her reasons 
were rather mixed. Beyond the one she produced, 
there was an undefined idea that the presence of the 
child made her own position less open to question. 
Openly she declared to herself that she was above 
suspicion, and she did not care what anybody thought; 
but all the same it came into her mind that if Roger 
knew the child was with her, he could not fancy any- 
thing. Further back, more unacknowledged still, 
' lurked the notion that she would not leave the child 
for Roger to comfort himself with. She thought he 
cared more for the baby than he did for her: very 
well, then, he should not have the baby. 

“ Well," resumed Mrs. Temple-Smith, “ the baby 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


209 


certainly complicates the question; the baby is a nui- 
sance. If it had not been for her, you could have 
taken up your quarters here for the present, but I 
really could not — 

'‘Of course not; I should not dream of such a 
thing! cried Emmie. " I thought perhaps you could 
tell me of some nice rooms near you. And naturally 
I want to get some work. My old connection must 
be all gone to pieces ; besides, I want to get something 
better than teaching. I am not penniless,” she added; 
“ I have got my own money.” 

" I dare say I could get you some pupils, but for 
anything else you must wait till Val comes back. He 
will be in town in a few weeks, and he’ll look after 
you. By the way,” she added, " I suppose you know 
that your husband can take the child away from you 
if he chooses — unless he has done anything very bad.” 

" Oh, he hasn’t done anything,” said Emmie, flush- 
ing up. " I thought you understood. I am sick of 
leading a maimed, cramped existence. I found that 
with him anything else was impossible. He is the 
sort of man who won’t let you say your soul is your 
own. All this year I have been trying to assert my- 
self, and I felt gagged, stifled: so at last I knew there 
was nothing for it but to break away.” 

" Well, are you prepared to relinquish the child if 
he demands her?” 

" Oh, yes, I suppose so ; I don’t particularly care 
about keeping her with me; only he doesn’t know 
where we are.” 

"You’re a little fool, if you’re counting upon that. 
Why, my dear child, he’ll trace you in a day. You’ll 


210 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


be at home before the end of the week, unless you’re 
prepared to make a good fight for your freedom.” 

“ I am,” said Emmie, the light coming into her eyes 
again. “He can have Betty if he insists; he shall 
never have me.” 

“ My dear, I know just How it will be. He will 
never understand the way in which you are acting. 
He will jump to the obvious conclusion — Men never 
think a woman can do anything without another man. 
He will be hunting up a possible lover for you; he 
will put detectives on your track, and within a day or 
two he will arrive, raving, and drag you off home with 
him.” 

“ I should think he would have too much pride to 
make me go back to him if I don’t choose. I should.” 

“ Oh, my dear girl, men are different. At the bot- 
tom you always come to the savage instinct: the wife 
is a chattel to be whipped and locked up if she rebels.” 

“ I wonder if I had better go abroad for awhile.” 

“No good at all. You would only postpone the 
tussle which is bound to come. No, I will tell you 
what I should do if I were you. Write to him, ex- 
plaining your own position and your resolution. Tell 
him it is perfectly useless to interfere with you, and 
you do not intend to see him.” 

“ He will come all the same : he will see the post- 
mark and trace me by that.’^ 

Then Miss Orman spoke for the first time. “ The 
cook is going for a holiday to-day to her friends in 
the country. Let her have your letter to post when 
she gets there. You need not say you are in town, 
or where you are. If he goes down to Fosbury to 
look for you, he won’t find you.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


211 


So Em was established at the escritoire in Mrs. 
Temple-Smith's study, and left alone to compose an 
epistle that should make clear the position to her hus- 
band's mind, according to her own idea of it. 

The letter in her large marked handwriting which 
lay beside Roger's plate next morning and put to 
flight all thoughts of breakfast, was certainly definite 
enough. As he tore it open with shaking fingers, 
his mind was vainly trying to forecast what he might 
find; but the reality was so unlike anything he had 
thought of, that the bold legible characters failed to 
convey any sense till he had read it twice. Here was 
no appeal for forgiveness, no despairing cry from a 
woman torn in two between love and duty. That he 
might have understood; but this — what could it 
mean? She wrote without any agitation: 

''Dear Roger: 

" I suppose when you realised I was gone last night 
you expected to find the orthodox farewell pinned to 
the toilet-cushion; but then you see I am not acting 
in the orthodox manner, and I thought it wiser not to 
write till my plans were settled. The reason I left as 
I did you will easily understand. You would have 
wished to dissuade me, and I preferred to avoid dis- 
cussion. Not long ago you forbade me to follow the 
career for which I have always longed, and I resolved 
not to submit to this kind of dictation any longer. I 
am a human being as much as you are, and I consider 
I have a right to live my own life. Your views and 
mine are totally opposite on this as on most points, 
and since we are not in the least likely to convince 
each other, I am certain we shall both be happier 


212 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


apart. Probably just now you are angry, but you 
will come to see that it is better. I have my own 
money and my own profession and am in no way de- 
pendent on you. 

I brought Betty with me, for I don’t quite trust 
Ellen and I did not see how you could look after so 
young a child. You can of course see her by and by, 
when you have made up your mind to leave me un- 
molested. When you do you can put an advertise- 
ment into the Daily Mail and I will arrange it; till 
then I don’t intend to say where we are. 

I suppose it is inevitable that you jumped at once 
to the usual insulting conclusion: I know what men 
always think when a woman takes an unusual step; 
but I can assure you you need have no suspicions of 
that sort. I am not with either of my sisters, nor do 
they know where I am, so it is no good your worry- 
ing them about me, but I am with a woman friend.” 

Apparently she had found a difficulty in ending; she 
signed herself merely ‘‘ Yrs, E. R.” 

He read it through twice, first in eager haste and 
perplexity, then slowly and ponderingly. ‘‘ Does she 
think I’m a stone?” he said as he laid it down. Agonis- 
ing as his jealous suspicions of the day before had 
been, he felt now as if he could have forgiven her 
more easily if she had been swept away by a tempta- 
tion too strong for her, than for the calm indifference 
of this. The humiliation of it stung like a lash. 

He must see her; that was very certain — and with- 
out consenting to her conditions. He picked up the 
envelope which he had thrown down, and deciphered 
the blurred postmark with some difficulty: ‘‘Eos- 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


213 


bury ’’ — well, it was one comfort, she could not be 
hidden long in a little country town like that. What 
on earth could have taken her there? How strange 
that she should not have gone to London ! He 
looked out the trains, and found he should just have 
time to make a few arrangements for the lessons of the 
day, and apologies for those of yesterday. He felt 
much calmer now, and his head clear and business- 
like. 

The journey to Fosbury was very unlike flying in 
the express to Southampton. It was a cross-country 
line, and various half-hours in the train were inter- 
spersed with forty or fifty minutes waiting at lone- 
some out-of-the-way junctions with queer names. It 
appeared to be market-day in those regions, and the 
carriage was continually invaded by fat women with 
huge baskets smelling overpoweringly of apples, and 
further burdened with troops of very small children in 
very large boots, with now and then an old shepherd 
in a smock-frock of an obsolete pattern. He seemed 
to himself to have been travelling for hours, when at 
length he was deposited in a dull and ugly little town 
nestling under a lofty overhanging ridge of down. 

The ticket-collector was of course the first person 
to examine, and he was perfectly certain that no lady 
had arrived late on the night mentioned. For a mo- 
ment Roger was baffled, then he recollected that from 
Pinecliff Emmie could scarcely have arrived the same 
night at this out-of-the-way corner: most likely she 
slept somewhere on the way and came on in the morn- 
ing. The man brightened at the amended question. 

To be sure; There was a lady and a little girl come 
quite early, first train a’most, Wednesday.'’ Asked 


214 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


about the size of the little girl, he couldn’t say for cer- 
tain — a little tot that could just run about. As to 
where they could be found, he was less definite: the 
lady had asked for quiet lodgings, and he had told her 
of several, but he could not say which she went to. 
They might know at the Red Lion. Likewise they 
might not. 

As Roger began to move off down the road, he 
called after him: 

In case that was not the party you was looking 
for, there was another young lady come later by the 
afternoon train, in a pink hat with green ribbons. A 
Miss Watkins, she was, one of Farmer Watkins’s girls 
up to Latch Farm. She is in service in London and 
come down for her holiday.” 

Roger shook his head at the young woman in the 
pink hat; she certainly was not Em, and it never 
struck him that she was the one person in Fosbury 
who could have told him where to find her. 

At the Red Lion he prospered beyond expectation, 
for after looking for rooms and not finding any to suit 
her in the place, the lady he sought had come there 
to hire a trap to be driven to Deerbrook, over Forts- 
down Hill, where she had been told she might find 
what she wanted. She had mentioned that she wished 
to live very retired, and must have a healthy spot for 
the child. The man who had driven her was produced 
after a short delay, and deposed to having left her and 
the child and the boxes at Mrs. Whicher’s, Rosebank 
Villa. As to a description of her, Roger soon found 
that was hopeless, as the man and the landlady con- 
tradicted each other on every particular. To follow and 
see her was the obvious thing to do. The trap was out 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


215 


now, they informed him — both the traps ; but the gen- 
tleman could have one in the afternoon if he pleased. 
Waiting, however, was the one thing he felt quite in- 
capable of ; he preferred to tramp the four miles over 
the hill, to the disgust of the Red Lion. 

As he strode along the white dusty road he was- 
trying to settle with himself how he would meet her. 
He was furiously angry with her — ^justly angry, and 
he had a notion that anger would serve him with Em 
better than tenderness. He had laid down his heart 
for her to trample on too long. 

As he rose to the crest of the down, a magnificent 
panorama lay spread out beneath him, but he had na 
eyes for it. Below the chain of heavy earthworks with 
their gaping mouths, lay the wide harbour crowded 
with huge ships, the stately grace of the old men-of- 
war that lay at anchor, their labours done, contrasting 
with the unwieldy bulk of the new ironclads and the 
narrow fiendish-looking build of the torpedo-catchers ; 
beyond stretched the great arsenal, dim with the 
smoke of innumerable chimneys, town linked to town 
as far as the eye could follow, and nearer the foot of 
the hill the long silvery arms of the harbour reaching 
up through the salt marshes. He did not even pause 
to look at the huge gray keep that rose out of the 
shallows at the head of the estuary, symbol of the 
strength of an earlier day, magnificent in its decay. 
He kept doggedly on till the ridge hid all the wide 
landscape from sight, and before him lay only the lanes 
trailing with blackberry and traveller’s-joy, the great 
farms with their big barns and straggling outbuild- 
ings, the wide fields where the cattle were grazing and 
the sedges were turning pale straw-colour. Blind as 


2I6 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


he was to it all at the time, it used to come back to 
him afterwards with a strange vividness like something 
seen in a dream. 

Deerbrook at last, as he could tell by the name writ- 
ten up over the little post-office, and he had not yet 
settled what he meant to say. Well, he must leave it 
to the impulse of the moment now. 

Rosebank Villa was not far along the street. It lay 
a little back in a small garden with square grass-plot 
and dahlias. It was red and flat-faced, with a French 
window on each side of the door — ^just the sort of cot- 
tage that the retired wheelwright or carpenter always 
builds for himself, and in which, after his decease, his 
widow lets apartments. It was evidently Mrs. Whicher 
herself who answered the door, a tall elderly woman 
with a red and gray knitted shawl pinned across her 
bosom. 

You have a lady lodging here, I believe. Can I 
see her? 

“ No, sir; Mrs. White is at dinner,’^ was the re- 
ply. 

The fancy that she had gone back to her maiden 
name struck him like a blow. What had he done that 
she should so insult him? The commonness of the 
name never occurred to him. 

'' Nevertheless I must see her for a moment,’’ he 
said. Will you be good enough to go in and say 
so?” 

‘‘ What name, sir? ” queried Mrs. Whicher doubt- 
fully. 

Never mind the name; just say some one wishes 
to speak to her.” 

‘‘Mrs. White don’t care to see no company; she 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


2iy 

wouldn’t even see our vicar when he called yesterday 
evening.” 

Thus protesting she stepped back and opened a door 
close by and asked the question of some one inside. 

‘‘ Oh no, indeed ; tell him I am engaged and can 
see no one.” 

What a low, husky voice she spoke in! She must 
have caught cold. He was not going to be baffled, 
however, with only a door between. He gently 
pushed the good woman aside, and entered a narrow 
room too small for the mahogany sideboard and big 
dining-table that filled it up. At the head sat a dark- 
haired woman in black with her back to the French 
window, and a small child was perched in a high chair 
at her side. She rose to her feet and stood leaning 
both hands on the table, looking at him through the 
steam of the roast mutton, and speaking volubly with 
some excitement. 

‘‘ I know of course what you have come about, but 
it is perfectly useless. I tell you again, as I told the 
man they sent before, that I could give you no further 
information, not if you were to tear me with wild 
horses.” 

Redway looked at her with an amazement that for 
the moment struck him dumb. 

‘‘ It is cruel that I should be subjected to this per- 
secution,” she went on, and her handkerchief went up 
to her eyes. ‘‘ The only effect of it is to drive me 
from pillar to post. I did think I had got out of reach 
this time. And if it is lost, what good does it do me? 
I ask you that.” 

Roger certainly did not know. He endeavoured to 


2i8 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


clear the situation by getting in a word. I beg to 
apologise for this intrusion. I — 

But she broke in. '' Oh, I am not blaming you per- 
sonally. I dare say you are sorry for me. I know you 
are acting under orders. Your people send continu- 
ally fresh ones. Last time he pretended to be the 
piano-tuner. But there is no piano here,” she added 
with an hysterical laugh. 

‘‘ I assure you. Madam, it is an entire mistake. I — ” 

'' Of course it is a mistake, as they will find out 
when they have worried me into my grave. I know 
there was another will as well as they do, but what 
became of it I know no more than that child.” 

He glanced as she spoke at the little girl who was 
staring with round eyes over her mug — a red-cheeked 
solid little person who would have made three or four 
of his Betty. Through the maze of his own disap- 
pointment he perceived that there were other troubles 
in the world to-day beside his, and other people were 
absorbed in them to the exclusion of all else, though 
this morning it had seemed to him that the world was 
so wide solely that Em might hide herself from him. 

The lady had paused to take breath, and he struck 
in once more. 

I am awfully sorry I forced myself in. I was un- 
der the impression I should find my wife here. I have 
nothing to do with you or your affairs. I can only 
say how sorry I am that it should have seemed as if 
I came to injure or annoy you. Pray make your 
mind easy.” 

He went before she had been able to grasp what he 
was saying. As he had his hand upon the gate Mrs. 
Whicher followed him down the path. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


219 


“ One moment, sir, please, if you’ll excuse me.” 

He waited, and she came close and spoke in a low 
voice, with a glance now and then at the French win- 
dow. 

That lady — I’m a lone widder woman myself, and 
always much respected. I’m perticklar as a rule about 
references, but she seemed in a hurry to come in, and 
she bein’ a pleasant-spoken young lady and me 
partial to children, I didn’t make a p’int of it. But if 
there’s anything against her, if you’d kindly name it 
— in strict confidence of course.” 

'' I know nothing on earth about the lady ; never 
saw her before in my life.” 

I quite understand your not liking to speak, sir. 
I wouldn’t do nothing unhandsome — not to turn her 
out in a hurry like, but a week’s notice on either side : 
that has always been my rule.” 

My good woman, I tell you I don’t know any- 
thing about her; but for Heaven’s sake don’t turn out 
the poor lady oh account of my unlucky coming. I 
fancied she was some one I am looking for.” 

‘‘You are sure there is nothing against the lady? 
If there was and you could mention it confidential like, 
it should go no further. I am aware that in your busi- 
ness you has to be very secret.” 

“ My business ? Why, what on earth do you take 
me for ? ” 

“ Well, sir, I don’t suppose you’d own to it if it was 
so ; but I am pretty sure in my own mind that you 
are from Scotland Yard. I know something about it, 
my poor sister’s first husband havin’ been in the same 
way of business. Quite the gentleman he always 
looked too.” 


220 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


In spite of all his trouble and perplexity and the 
renewed disappointment, Redway had to burst into 
a fit of laughter. I should make a precious poor 
hand at that trade,’' he said, I am making such a 
mess of my first experiment. I wonder if, before I 
start to tramp back to Fosbury, you can tell me 
whether there is any other lady with a baby lodging in 
this village.” 

‘‘ Well, sir, I couldn’t say for sure, but they do take 
lodgers at the Brambles, a farmhouse near a mile out 
of the village, Darracote way. I did hear tell as Mrs. 
Price was getting her rooms ready for a party.” 

She put him in the right way, and he walked on. 
The sight of the roast meat on Mrs. White’s table had 
put him in mind how long it was since he had eaten, 
and he regretted that he had not asked Mrs. Whicher 
to give him something. He drew his belt tighter, re- 
marking to himself with a grim smile that he was on 
the road to rival the celebrated camel who was brought 
down to a straw a day when his death unluckily inter- 
rupted the experiment. After all he did not feel nearly 
as hungry as he had yesterday. 

The lane seemed interminable; he grew unspeak- 
ably weary of the long trails of dusty blackberries and 
the coarse stalks of mullein and yellow ragwort that 
fringed the way. By and by they vanished, or at least 
became dim and blurred, and the white road before 
him seemed to be sinking away from his feet. I sup- 
pose this is how people feel when they faint,” he said 
to himself ; but he set his teeth hard and kept walking, 
walking on, and presently it cleared off and he found 
he was still plodding along. It just shows what you 
can do when you make up your mind,” he remarked. 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


221 


At last the long low white house smothered in Vir- 
ginia creeper and China roses, he had been told to 
look for, came in sight, and he turned into a short 
elm-bordered approach. His hopes by that time had 
gone so low that it was no surprise, hardly even a dis- 
appointment, to be told that the lady they were ex- 
pecting that afternoon was a party who came to 
them every summer with three children, and the 
mistress of the house said she did not think he would 
find any other lodgers in Deerbrook at that time of 
year unless it was at Mrs. Whicher’s. 

He asked to be directed to the inn, but missed it 
somehow, and the road to Fosbury too, and when he 
got there the afternoon train was gone. Well, so 
much the better: he would as soon spend the night 
in the train as anywhere else. A night in the express 
is all very well, but broken by incessant changes and 
long waits at dreary forsaken little junctions, it is pro- 
longed misery; but he was by that time in a state of 
restless fatigue that would hardly have let him keep 
still anywhere. 

In scraps between one interruption and another, 
either trying to rest in the corner of the railway car- 
riage or sitting on a hard bench in a draughty station, 
he thought it all out and resolved that he must give it 
up for the present. His anger was growing so deep 
and bitter that he was almost afraid to find Em; he 
scarcely knew what he might do. He must take up 
his life again as though there were no Em and no Betty 
in existence, nor ever had been. He must begin his 
work at once, and go on with his ordinary every-day 
occupations. He tried to say that if she could do with- 
out him, he could do without her, but that was a fail- 


222 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


ure. He felt as if he had been seeking her three years 
instead of three days, and if it went on much longer 
he believed he should go mad. He had done with it, 
and to-morrow would be a new day. 

By the time he reached Pinecliff it was already to- 
morrow. 


XX. 


So this was the new day; but it felt uncommonly 
like the fag-end of the old one. Redway had let him- 
self in with the latch-key, for the servants had left the 
front door unbolted, not knowing when he might 
come back. He turned into the dining-room and 
opened the shutters, letting the daylight stream in 
upon the forlorn disorder of a forsaken room. A few 
notes and letters had arrived for him the day before; 
he eagerly scanned them, but when he found there was 
nothing either from or about Em, he hardly took in 
the contents. He threw them down, yawning wearily ; 
then he caught sight of himself in the chimney-glass. 
Well, he should certainly look, and probably feel, bet- 
ter when he had shaved and dressed. The servants 
ought to have been down, and the kitchen fire lighted, 
by this time; Em had never let them lie late in bed. 
He would have to get his hot water himself, he sup- 
posed. 

Late though it was for bathing, he had a hankering 
for the sea, for the bracing coldness, for the restful- 
ness of lying in those mighty arms; but he would not 
yield to it. It was not only that he felt too weary to 
swim, but he did not dare trust himself. He was feel- 
ing so unutterably miserable, and a thought came to 
him how easy it would be to swim out — to keep swim- 
ming out until — He repelled it as cowardly, but he 
would not put himself in the way of temptation. 


223 


224 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


He came down-stairs presently, ready for the day’s 
work, and remarking to himself that it was wonderful 
how well one got on without food or rest — for a cer- 
tain length of time. For three nights now, a bath and 
a change of raiment had been his nearest approach to 
the night’s rest which sets a merciful barrier betwixt 
day and day, but really it did not seem to do so badly. 
As to eating, why, if he resumed work, he must re- 
sume that, he supposed — only not this morning. He 
took the cover off the chops, but got no further. He 
rose from the table soon, after some coffee, and looked 
at the calendar that stood on his writing-table; but 
it had not been turned since Tuesday, and it took him 
some time to remember what day it was and what his 
engagements were: he forgot about the notes alto- 
gether. It appeared he had to go to one or two 
schools, including one at Eastern Green, and finish 
up his morning’s course at Tristerwood, as Sir Her- 
vey wished to rehearse some of the music for Thurs- 
day and make final arrangements. 

Except for being totally unable to recollect what he 
had said last week and what was to have been prac- 
tised for him, he got through his morning’s work 
wonderfully well, and flattered himself that he was be- 
ginning to cease to think of his trouble. The October 
mists had cleared off and the brilliant sunshine that 
lighted up the greensward and turned the sunflowers 
and cactus-dahlias into points of fire seemed to burn 
his eyes as he stood on the steps at Tristerwood. 

The butler looked a little surprised as he showed 
him into the music-room, which had not been pre- 
pared for occupation; the tall shutters were nearly all 
closed and a dust-sheet was spread over the grand 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


225 


piano. The cool dimness after the glare outside gave 
him a strange feeling that made him suddenly wish he 
had sent word that he could not come. In a minute 
the servant reappeared. 

Will you step up-stairs, if you please, sir? My 
Lady will see you in the morning-room.’’ 

He followed the man up to the little sitting-room in 
the eastern corner of the house, which was Lady Gil- 
derdale’s especial sanctum, and where he had occa- 
sionally given her lessons. 

I am so sorry,” she said ; I am afraid you did 
not get my note yesterday. Sir Hervey has got one 
of his asthmatic attacks and is not out of his room to- 
day. I hope he will be all right before Thursday : they 
don’t generally last long. He may be quite able to re- 
hearse Tuesday or Wednesday if you would not mind 
coming over again. Miss Fane has ridden into Pine- 
cliff.” She stopped, observing that he was not at- 
tending. 

Certainly,” he said, it will make no difference.” 
He quite forgot to add that he was sorry for Sir Her- 
vey’s illness, and Lady Gilderdale reflected that he 
really was rather a bear. 

Since you are here,” she continued, ‘‘ I shall be 
so glad of the opportunity to go over some of the ac- 
companiments with you. I want another practice of 
the Concerto very much. And I should like just to 
run through Mrs. Redway’s songs; you can tell me 
just how she likes to take them. Shall we have first 
the one with violin obbligato ? ” 

He wished she would let him go, but he had not 
the sense to say so, and when he tried to tell her that 
it was doubtful if Mrs. Redway would be able to sing 


226 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


on Thursday, he was unable to frame a sentence. He 
walked silently to the window and stood there tuning 
up his instrument. Through the opening cut in the 
pinewoods he looked down to the mouth of the river 
which lay like a vivid picture framed in the dark pine 
branches. Why was it that the sight of the long links 
of sand-hills, golden in the October sunshine, the 
white sails sliding down between, the amethyst hills 
beyond, the ineffable peace and remoteness of it all, 
seemed like the turning of a knife in a wound? Lady 
Gilderdale was beginning to play, and after a short 
prelude of twining harmonies of violin and piano, 
came the moment when he could fancy Em's clear 
voice taking up the melody as he had often heard it. 
His fingers failed suddenly in a hopeless confusion. 
The accompanist paused and looked round surprised: 
any sort of failure was so unlike him. 

‘‘You are not well!" she exclaimed. She had 
thought when he came, how wan he looked. How 
stupid she had been not to dismiss him 1 He had 
turned his back to her and seemed unable to recover 
himself. For a moment she waited, then she went to 
him and saw that he was sobbing chokingly, gripping 
the window-frame till the knuckles started white. 
Tears in a man are either terrible or absurd. Judith 
was not a woman to tolerate weakness, but she rec- 
ognised that this was anguish, and she respected it. 
She took the violin from his hand and made him sit 
down upon the sofa. 

“ Never mind," she said as quietly as one might 
speak to a schoolboy whose manhood has broken 
down; “don't fight against it so terribly, you only 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


227 

make it worse. I am going to leave you a minute to 
get you something.” 

He had buried his head upon his arms among the 
cushions, and was past saying anything. Her first 
idea had been a glass of wine, but that involved ring- 
ing for Chadwin, in whose custody all such things 
were kept; and she felt too pitiful for Redway 's dis- 
tress to suffer it to be witnessed by any eyes but her 
own. She went to her own room and mixed a dose of a 
powerful nerve-tonic she kept by her; it would prob- 
ably do him more good than the wine, if he could be 
induced to take it. She was purposely some minutes 
gone, but when she came back he was still in the same 
attitude, his head hidden, his strong frame shaking 
with those almost silent sobs. She waited quietly for 
a little, then she touched his shoulder very softly. 

‘‘Will you try to sit up a moment and take this? 
I think it will help you.” 

Her voice was tender but firm. He made an effort, 
and raised his head so that she could hold the glass to 
his lips, and he swallowed the contents obediently, 
though with, difficulty. Then his head went down 
again, but gradually he grew calmer, and presently he 
raised it and leaned back, looking so terribly white 
that she feared he was going to faint, and reached him 
a vinaigrette that lay on a table near. It was some 
while yet before he could speak. She stood by the 
window that he might not feel that she was watching 
him. 

“ Thank you,” he said. “ You have been awfully 
good to me. I think that after this disgraceful exhi- 
bition I had better go.” 


228 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Presently. Stay quiet a few minutes; you are 
not fit to move yet.’^ 

I don’t know how to apologise,” he went on, for 
the impertinence of behaving like a child in your pres- 
ence. The only excuse I can offer is that I have been 
travelling about for days in great distress of mind; 
I haven’t been to bed for three nights, and I have had 
next to no food. When I could have eaten, I had no 
time; and when I could — I couldn’t.” 

You poor fellow, you must be starving! You 
must let me order you something. I can’t let you go 
back like this.” 

No, no, thanks; indeed, I would rather not. I 
could not touch anything.” He started up. ‘‘ I will 
go now.” 

She understood his reluctance to encounter the ser- 
vants, and also the fact that in his present condition 
solid food would probably choke him; but she re- 
membered, when she was out of the room, just now, 
meeting Sir Hervey’s beef tea going in. It was most 
likely at his elbow still untouched, since he had a con- 
stitutional aversion to anything properly hot. 

''Sit down again,” she said; "I shan’t be a mo- 
ment.” And he obeyed her. 

She went into Sir Hervey’s room and laid hands 
on the beef tea which, as she foresaw, was cooling on 
a little table beside him. " I want this, Hervey,” she 
said without further explanation ; " you are not in a 
hurry for it, are you? You can ring for Chadwin to 
bring you some more.” 

He was a little astonished as she went off with it, 
but too much absorbed in an article he was writing on 
" The Beautiful in Music ” to protest against the 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


229 


theft. She was rather afraid she might find her pa- 
tient flown, but he was just as she left him, and he 
submitted passively to swallow what she set be- 
fore him, being, in truth, too little used to being min- 
istered to to resist it. She sat quietly beside him till 
she saw the colour beginning to come back to his 
lips, and the hand that held the spoon grow steady. 
Then she said: 

I am afraid you are in some very great trouble. 
If it is a matter in which Sir Hervey or I could help 
you, you must tell us; otherwise you need not say a 
word.'' 

It is what no one can help me in, but I would 
rather tell you ; you must have thought me so strange, 
breaking down like that. I have lost my wife." 

Lost your wife ! " she repeated with an amazed 
look. 

Yes. Oh, she isn't dead. If she were," he added 
with a short laugh that broke off in a gulp, I sup- 
pose I should sit at home with the blinds pulled down, 
and put off all my appointments. I mean it literally. 
At this moment I do not know where under heaven 
she can be." 

Judith knew neither what to say nor what to think 
Then he flushed up and said: '‘You must not fancy 
she has gone off with anybody; it is not that. She 
has simply left me." 

"Left you? What can have induced her?" 

"You may well ask. I suppose you will conclude, 
as the world certainly will, that I must have used her 
abominably, but — " He paused an instant, drawing 
one or two hard breaths, and twisting the corner of 
the sofa cushion into a knot. " But — I loved her." 


230 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Judith looked at him. ‘‘ I shall not think it/’ she 
said. ‘‘ But you must have quarrelled? ” 

Can one call it a quarrel ? A little tiff, I should 
have said. One morning — years ago it seems; it 
must have been Tuesday — I came in, in a bad temper 
I dare say, and laughed at some songs she was trying 
over, and told her they did not suit her. She took 
it up rather warmly, and later she was still vexed and 
would not make it up. I was out most of the day and 
all the evening, and when I came in she was gone. 
Since then I have had a letter with no address on it, 
to tell me that she felt herself crushed and manacled; 
she wanted to lead her own life and develop her own 
soul. — What does it all mean?” 

Lady Gilderdale began to see something of what it 
meant; she recognised the phrases, and knew from 
whose mint they came. She remembered perfectly 
that her cousin, Portia Temple-Smith, had taken up 
little Mrs. Redway. She recalled the pretty, shallow 
face, the silvery cold voice, and fancied she could see 
what had been happening. It was difficult to know 
what to say. 

I know what you must naturally be imagining 
about me,” he went on uneasily, still wrenching the 
unfortunate cushion, and one hates to protest about 
oneself; but I do want you to know that on my side 
I haven’t given her any cause — it is not the usual 
thing at all. In truth, ever since I have loved Em I 
have been all hers, and she knows it. She has nothing 
of that sort to reproach me with. I sometimes fancy 
that if I had treated her as many fellows treat their 
wives, she would have thought more of me. She has 
had her own way in everything.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


231 


Lady Gilderdale smiled. Don’t repent of being 
too good,” she said. , But if you love her, believe 
me, it is bound to come right. You must have pa- 
tience for a little, and give her time to come to her 
senses.” 

Oh, I cannot. And besides she has taken my lit- 
tle Betty.” 

‘‘Your little girl? I did not know you had any 
children.” 

“ Only that one. She is such a forward monkey, 
and the drollest, dearest little person! ” 

“ I think if she has the little one with her you may 
be happier about her : the child will keep her safe.” 

“ Ah, if she cared for her, but she doesn’t. I think 
she only took her to spite me. Oh 1 ” he cried, break- 
ing off suddenly while his forehead contracted as if 
with physical pain, “ to love and hate the same person 
at the same moment — it tears one to pieces.” 

“ It sounds cruel to preach patience, but I should 
wait. Silence before grievous things is sometimes the 
only wisdom.” 

“ If I could only see her and know what she is doing. 
She always hankered to go on the stage. If she does 
that, what is to become of the poor baby? Besides ” — 
with a sudden change of tone — “ I won’t submit to it ; 
I can’t.” 

After a reflecting pause Lady Gilderdale spoke 
again : “ I think I may possibly be able to help you. 
You know Mrs. Temple-Smith, who is a cousin of Sir 
Hervey’s, was a great friend of your wife’s; it is just 
possible she may be able to throw some light on it. 
Will you leave it to me for a day or two, unless you 
should chance on some clue? ” 


232 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


He looked at her with all his heart in his eyes. I 
can’t begin to thank you/’ he said, nor for all your 
goodness to me this morning.” 

Don’t ; there is no need. I feel sure it is only a 
misunderstanding, and it will all come right.” 

He rose with something like his own alertness. “ I 
will be going now.” 

Will you let me order the carriage to take you 
back, or would you rather go through the wood? 
That would be shorter and much less tiring. I will 
give you the key of the gate.” 

‘‘ Oh, the wood, please. I would rather walk.” He 
felt he could recover his calmness and self-command 
in the grave silent dimness ; it was like her to think 
of it. 

I want you to promise me one thing,” she said as 
she held his hand in farewell ; that when you get 
home you will take food and rest. Lie down and keep 
resolutely still whether you can sleep or not. Never 
mind your afternoon engagements: better sacrifice 
them than incur an illness ; and if you go on like this 
you will risk a complete breakdown of nerve which 
would be fatal.” 

He promised gratefully. Already she had made a 
new man of him; he no longer thought wistfully of 
those gray crawling waves. 

When he was gone, Judith stood a minute by the 
sofa, putting the tumbled pillows straight, and she 
sighed. 

If I were dead or had come to grief, there would 
be no such bitter tears shed for me. I think it is 
generally the cold and unresponsive women on whom 
men lavish all their hearts.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


233 


And then she thought of some lines from an Irish 
love-song which she had come across in a translation. 

She is my treasure, O, she is my treasure; the woman with 
the gray eyes ... a woman who would not lay a hand 
under my head. 

She is my love, O, she is my secret love; a woman who tells 
me nothing ... a woman who does not remember me. 

She is my choice, O, she is my choice; the woman who would 
not look back at me, the woman who would not make 
peace with me. 

She is my desire, O, she is my desire; a woman dearest to 
me under the sun, a woman who would not pay heed to 
me if I were to sit by her side. 

It is she who has ruined my heart and left a sigh forever 
in me. 


Does she deserve it all, I wonder? ” said Judith. 

For her the wine of life had never been poured out, 
and unlike most women who have lacked that wine, 
she knew it : for she was of those who understand. 

All her life she had been in love with Love : in her 
long-past girlhood, when she had fancied vainly that 
Heaven’s choicest gift had come to her, and still in 
her chill solitude, she believed in the beauty and 
potency of that strange force which is the fount of 
all the poetry, all the music, all the fervency and glow 
of this earthly life of ours, though to her it must al- 
ways be an ideal distant thing, pure as the snow on 
the mountain tops, and as remote. 


XXL 


A TELEGRAM was brought to Lady Gilderdale next 
morning while she and Miss Fane were still lingering 
over the breakfast-table. Sir Hervey, though better, 
was not yet down-stairs. Judith looked at it with some 
curiosity when she saw the name. Sorry unable to 
sing Thursday. E. Redway,’’ it ran. “ Ah,” she said 
to herself, ‘‘handed in at Young Street, Kensington; 
that Fosbury letter was a blind. I thought so. Shall 
I send and let him know? It is certainly a clue, and 
it will probably turn out that she is with Portia. On 
the whole I think it would be best if I could see Portia 
myself first.” 

“ Anything wrong about the party ? ” asked 
Clemency, watching her. “ A wire nearly always 
means mischief.” 

“ Only that Mrs. Redway can’t sing. I think her 
place can easily be supplied.” 

“ Mrs. Redway ! Why to be sure ! I heard the 
most extraordinary story about her in Pinecliff yes- 
terday, and if it is true she certainly couldn’t. I won- 
der I forgot to tell you ; only going on to the Digbys 
and finding Frank and Rhoda just back from India 
put it all out of my head. Do you know they say she 
has bolted with Valentine Garcia. Do you believe it 
can be true? ” 

“No, certainly. Mr. Redway was here yesterday; 
he never got my note to put him off. He told me she 


234 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


235 


was away from home, and I rather think there has been 
a quarrel, but I don’t believe Mr. Garcia has anything 
to do with it. Stories in Pinecliff always gather like 
snowballs.” 

‘‘ Let us look at the telegram. Well, she has not gone 
far at any rate. If she had levanted I don’t think she 
would have had the cheek to wire. It is a nuisance 
anyway. I am afraid it will spoil the party, because 
if it is such a cataclysm he would not be able to play 
either, and I should hate to have another man foisted 
into the trios now.” 

Judith took the telegram up-stairs to Sir Hervey. 

'' Mr. Redway told me yesterday his wife was 
away,” she said ; but it seemed uncertain whether 
she might be back by Thursday, so I took no steps 
about a substitute; I think we may safely leave it to 
him.” 

“ H’m. I am not at all sure that I shall not take the 
whole matter out of his hands. Chadwin has been re- 
tailing some Pinecliff gossip. I should not wish to 
have people to the house about whom there was any 
scandal.” 

'' I don’t believe there is. Clemency had heard 
something of the kind yesterday, but I am convinced 
it was mere baseless rumour.” 

“ Well, Chadwin had heard that he treats her so 
abominably that she was forced to take flight one 
night with her little girl.” 

Judith faced round; she was standing by the win- 
dow. Oh, Hervey, you could know him and believe 
that ? ” 

He shrugged his shoulders. Know him ? What 
does one really know of these people after all ? ” 


236 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


He was here yesterday, you know,^’ she went on. 

He told me Mrs. Redway was away, and I gathered 
that there had been some serious misunderstanding. 
It is quite possible he may wish to withdraw from this 
affair of ours — he is so worried; but if not, I think it 
would be cruel to prejudge the matter against him.'’ 

Well," said Sir Hervey irritably, '' it is most an- 
noying that it should have happened just now. A 
week later it would not have signified. I should dis- 
like extremely having to engage a new man whose 
style might be totally different. I suppose it had 
better go on." 

Judith had been far too much concerned for the 
crushing sorrow she had witnessed to have had a 
thought as to whether he would be able to play for 
them or not. It struck her with a strange surprise 
that to Sir Hervey and to Clemency both, the broken 
heart, the ruined home seemed only of consequence 
as they affected the success of the party. 

Do you think that, as you are so much better, you 
could spare me to-day ? " she asked presently. “ I 
want to run up to town for a few hours. My dress 
ought to be tried on again, and I want to see Portia 
Temple-Smith." 

Saturday, my dear ! I don't see how you could get 
to your dressmaker before two o'clock. Besides, I feel 
inclined for a little music presently when I come down, 
and I shall want you to play for me." 

Oh, I quite forgot it was Saturday. I will write 
and make an appointment with Madame Brion for 
Monday then. Of course I shall be so pleased to play 
for you." 

I should be sorry, Judith," he said, to have you 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


237 


enter into any great intimacy with Portia. Of course 
when she was down here we were bound to show her 
some little civility. She is my second cousin, and she 
has had a cruel life, poor woman ! Her husband was 
a scoundrel, and a mean hound to boot, and when she 
was compelled to leave him, one felt that one must 
show that she had the support of her own family ; but 
I dislike exceedingly the line she has taken up. To 
rush before the public in the way she has done is the 
last thing for a woman in her unfortunate position. 
I should be disgusted if you were to be drawn into any 
of her schemes.’" 

She smiled. You need not be afraid. I detest 
them quite as much as you do.” 

Judith tried to lay the matter aside, but Redway 
was hardly out of her mind all Sunday; she had 
adopted his trouble with a pitying, anxious concern, 
and she was glad when, her business with the dress- 
maker concluded, she found herself in a hansom, driv- 
ing to Mrs. Temple-Smith’s flat on Campden Hill. 
Fortune favoured her: Portia was at home, a thing 
that rarely happened. 

‘‘ What, you ? ” she cried when she saw who her 
visitor was. Wonders will never cease ! Fancy you 
travelling about in this way by yourself! ” 

I thought I might count upon you for some 
lunch,” said Judith, kissing her. I came up to have 
my gown fitted, and to see about some things I want 
for Thursday : you know Hervey and I are going to 
perpetrate a party — a thing we haven’t done for years.” 

You don’t say so ! And you are becoming so mun- 
dane as actually to come up to town to be fitted. I 
always thought your clothes grew on you.” 


238 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Judith laughed. It was true she did not trouble her 
head much about what she wore, but was usually as 
satisfactorily arrayed as people who spend all their 
thoughts and more than all their money upon it. 

We have had one disappointment about our ar- 
rangements,’' she said presently. ‘‘We were counting 
upon your little singing-mistress, Mrs. Redway, for 
three songs, and I had a wire from her on Saturday 
to say she must fail us. As it was sent from this part 
of town, you can probably tell me where she is. I 
know you were interested in her. I want to see her 
this afternoon.” 

Mrs. Temple-Smith looked at her. “ Now I wonder 
how much you know,” she said. 

“ Is there anything to know ? ” 

“ My dear, you look very innocent, but I suspect 
you of wanting to return my singing bird to her cage. 
No, I won’t give you her address unless you will 
promise me it shall not get known in Pinecliff.” 

“ I certainly shall not make any such promise. 
Portia, if you are trying to hide Mrs. Redway from her 
husband, you are doing a very mischievous and a very 
dangerous thing. You might get into an exceedingly 
awkward scrape yourself. Besides, how silly it is: 
you must know perfectly well how quickly he could 
trace her if he chose to employ detectives.” 

“ That may be ; but the poor child confides in me. 
I shall not give her address to you or to any one 
without her sanction.” 

“ Very well ; then there is no more to be said. It is 
something at least to know that you are responsible 
for her.” 

“ Responsible ! ” cried Portia uneasily, “ I am noth- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


239 


ing of the kind. I had nothing to do with her leav- 
ing home. In fact, I don't in the least want her here 
just now. I have Gage Orman, who is a far more 
efficient secretary. I may find her a little work to do 
for me occasionally, but really she is rather a care 
than otherwise. I am sorry for her, that is all." 

‘‘Gage Orman!" repeated Judith. “Poor Gage! 
I should think that story would have given you 
enough of meddling." 

Portia flushed angrily. “ I have been her only 
friend," she said. 

“ Well, we will not talk of her; it is too tragic. One 
thing I suppose you may tell me without a breach of 
confidence: what cause does Mrs. Redway think she 
had for leaving her husband in this way? Has he be- 
haved ill to her? When one knows half the story, it 
is but fair that her half should be told." 

“ Oh, she brings no specific charges, but I can see 
how she has been tyrannised over and bullied — made 
into a mere domestic drudge, and refused all open- 
ings for self-expression, for self-culture. Her individ- 
uality was being stifled." 

Lady Gilderdale's face took on a slightly scornful 
expression. “ My dear Portia," she said, “ you used 
to despise shams and conventions. I really think the 
new ones are worse than the old, which at least could 
stand a good deal of wear and tear. I am sick of the 
cant about a woman’s individuality. If she can’t de- 
velop her own character in the same house with her 
husband and child, I don’t think there can be much to 
develop." 

“ Oh, Judith," cried Portia impatiently, rising and 
standing by the mantelpiece, “ you don’t understand 


240 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


the question, or rather you will not understand. You 
sit there on your pedestal, in the midst of your serene, 
happy life, and you draw your mantle of old-world 
prejudice round you, and you will not admit that any 
one has a right to be less happy than you. The old 
conditions suit you; so no one has any business to 
change them.’" 

So that is your idea of my outlook. If I fail to 
grasp your point of view, you no less fail to grasp 
mine. Do you think I do not feel for a woman on 
whom the bitter sorrow of an unhappy marriage has 
been laid? It is because I do, that I think it hardly 
short of wicked to encourage one who has every 
chance of happiness, with a husband devoted to her, 
to wreck it all simply because she cannot have her 
own way in everything.^' 

‘‘ Devoted !" repeated Mrs. Temple-Smith scorn- 
fully. ‘‘ One has learnt the value to put upon that 
sort of devotion — a selfish fondness for whatever min- 
isters to his own comfort. He is probably equally de- 
voted to his pipe." 

I don't say there may not have been faults on 
both sides ; there most likely have been : faults of 
temper, of egotism — two very self-asserting person- 
alities are apt to clash; but there does not seem to 
have been the smallest occasion for a breach, and I tell 
you plainly, Portia, that if you had not put your no- 
tions into a very silly, ill-balanced little head, I don't 
believe she would ever have dreamed of leaving her 
home." 

My notions, as you call them, will be the emanci- 
pation of thousands. If a few women had the courage 
to act as my little protegee is acting, to raise the stand- 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


241 


ard of independence, the world would be a happier 
place for women. Men must be taught that marriage 
is an equal partnership; the day has gone by when 
wives were to be made chattels or playthings of.’" 

My dear Portia, very few wives to-day are either 
chattels or playthings, unless they wish to be. But all 
this is beside the mark. I really do not see what Mr. 
Redway has done that you should abet his wife in 
such an outrageous act.” 

I tell you the child was miserable. Men are all 
alike.” 

Another of your cant phrases. Even dogs are not 
all alike.” 

And then Gage Orman came in, and the conversa- 
tion was changed. If Mrs. Temple-Smith could have 
prevented it, she would not have let Lady Gilderdale 
meet her new secretary. Miss Orman’s lamentable 
story had been well known, and Portia was afraid 
lest the strict notions of her cousin would make her 
visit Gage’s sins upon her head in the way that so- 
ciety women so well understand how to do; but the 
gentle courtesy and consideration of Judith’s manner 
left nothing to be desired. She did not talk much to 
Miss Orman — they had little in common; but her at- 
titude to a social outcast was prompted by the 
thought : Perhaps if one knew all the story one 
would feel she was more to be pitied than blamed.” 

After transacting the remaindei of her business, 
Judith returned to the flat to wait till it should be time 
for her train. Mrs. Temple-Smith had gone out, and 
so had Miss Orman, and she sat down in the draw- 
ing-room with a magazine, wondering, as she listlessly 
turned the pages, whether she had really done much 


242 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


good by coming. On the whole she thought it had 
been worth while; she had at least ascertained that 
the runaway was under her cousin’s wing, such as it 
was. 

Presently the door opened abruptly, and some one 
came in. 

Oh, I beg your pardon ! cried a clear voice. I 
thought Mrs. Temple-Smith was in — ” And then the 
speaker broke off suddenly, -for she saw who it was 
that was sitting near the window. 

Lady Gilderdale came forward and took her hand 
before she had time to make her escape. 

‘‘ Ah, Mrs. Redway,” she said, you are just the 
person I wanted to see. Please come and sit down. 
I think my cousin will be in soon.” 

Emmie tried to say she could not wait, but a certain 
gentle compulsion drew her against her will to the 
sofa. 

I had your telegram,” resumed Lady Gilderdale, 
‘‘ and I should have called on you this afternoon, but 
my cousin seemed to fancy you wished your address 
kept secret. Is that so?” 

“ I am very sorry to inconvenience you,” said 
Emmie, speaking hurriedly and in a manner very un- 
like her usual assurance. I fancied that as I had 
given you nearly a week’s notice there would be 
plenty of time to fill my place. I shall not be in Pine- 
cliff at present; it is impossible I could undertake it.” 

My dear Mrs. Redway, it is a matter of very little 
consequence who sings at our concert. Sir Hervey 
will have no difficulty in engaging another soprano. 
It is about your own affairs I wished to speak to you. 
I think you ought to be aware, if you are not, what 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


243 

very serious reports your sudden departure has given 
rise to.” 

Emmie gave her head a little toss. Oh, I don’t 
care what people say. Evil-minded people will think 
evil, I suppose. Pioneers in a good cause must ex- 
pect to have mud thrown at them.” 

Judith was tempted to ask what cause she imagined 
herself to be pioneering, but she refrained, and simply 
said : 

'' You have no right to be indifferent to what is said 
of you: a married woman’s reputation belongs to her 
husband. Moreover, it is not only of you that evil 
tongues make suggestions. People fancy that you 
must have been very ill-used to have taken such a 
step.” 

Ill-used ! ” Emmie gave a little hard laugh. '' Oh, 
he did not beat me nor starve me; but I had my rea- 
sons, good and sufficient ones as they appear to me, 
for leaving home;* but you must excuse me. Lady 
Gilderdale, if I decline to give account of myself to a 
stranger.” 

Judith bowed silently, and sat for a few minutes 
gazing into the fire, while Mrs. Redway fidgeted with 
her gloves. Then she spoke again: 

Personally I have no curiosity to learn your ad- 
dress, but I do urge upon you to write to your hus- 
band, who has been seeking you for many days in 
great anxiety.” 

Shall you tell him you have seen me ? ” 

Certainly I shall. I need not remind you that he 
would have no difficulty in tracing you if he chose, 
and I don’t see how you are to obtain work, which 
my cousin tells me you want, if you keep your where- 


244 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


abouts a secret. Your wisest plan will be to let him 
have the interview he wishes, and discuss your dif- 
ference reasonably, instead of persisting in this 
childish game of hide-and-seek.’’ 

‘‘You have seen him since I came away, then?” 
said Em, her tone betraying a certain curiosity. “ Did 
he ask you to see me? ” 

“ Oh, no. But I have seen him, yes.” 

‘ How — how did he seem to take it?” inquired 
Emmie, twisting the fingers of the glove she had taken 
off. 

Judith looked at her with her large, serious gaze. 
“ Do you think that is quite a question you should ask 
an outsider? ” she said, and Emmie crimsoned. Then 
she took out her pocket-book, and stooped her head 
over it while she scribbled an address. “ That is 
where I am staying,” she said, “ if you choose to give 
it to him. I don’t mean to write, but I will not refuse 
to see him if he comes up. It, will be no good, 
though.” 

Judith took it. “ I must go now,” she said, “ or I 
shall miss my train. There are many things I should 
like to say to you, but perhaps after all it is better 
not.” 

Redway was turning out of Linden Avenue, the lit- 
tle side road where he lived, with his hat slouched 
down and the collar of his coat turned up to his ears 
— for it was blowing up squally. The wind came in 
sudden gusts round corners and swept up each open- 
ing from the sea, laden with a drifting something, too 
fine for rain, too wet for mist. He was just crossing 
the wide road which led to the station when a car- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


245 


riage, coming rapidly down, was suddenly pulled up, 
and turning he saw a sweet, gracious face bending 
forward to catch his eye, and a kind hand stretched 
out. 

It is you ! I thought I could not be mistaken. I 
was just going to leave a message at your house. I 
have some news for you. Get in and I can tell you all 
about it. Where would you like to be put down? 

‘‘ Anywhere on the road to Eastern Green, thanks. 
I am on my way to St. Martin’s Hall for a practice of 
the East Pinecliff Orchestral Union.” 

Oh, I must pass that on my way home. St. Mar- 
tin’s Hall, tell Simpson ” — to the footman who was 
holding the carriage door open. 

It seemed a haven after the blustering night — so 
warm, so sheltered, with the softness of the opossum 
rug and the delicate, elusive fragrance of violets and 
Russia leather. And those kind gray eyes! They 
would not have looked at him so sweetly, so hope- 
fully, if she had not some comfort to give him. She 
was rummaging in a little bag. 

First of all I must give you this.” 

‘‘ She held out the card, and as he bent forward to 
read it by the light of a lamp they were passing, he 
saw the address pencilled in his wife’s own writing. 
He turned round with an eager question which she 
answered before it was spoken. 

‘‘Yes, I saw her this afternoon at my cousin’s flat; 
she is not staying there, but she has rooms near, and 
she came in.” 

He put up his hand to his head. “ I want to ask 
everything at once,” he said. 

“ Let me tell you exactly what she said: ‘ You may 


246 the harp of life, 

give him the address if you choose, and I won’t refuse 
to see him if he comes up, but it will be no good/ ” 

“No good! What did she mean? What reason 
did she give?” 

“ None, to me. But at least she admits that you 
had given her no justification — as the world would 
count justification.” 

“ Tell me that you don’t think I have.” 

“Truly I don’t believe you have,” she said; “but 
Mrs. Redway made no confidences; I have not heard 
her side, except through Mrs, Temple-Smith.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, tell me what she said.” 

“ I wonder if it is wise. You know the old warn- 
ing about putting your hand between the bark and 
the tree. I have found your wife; she has promised 
to see you : I think you must deal with it alone now.” 

“ But I am all in the dark; I shall blunder horribly. 
Sometimes I feel so furious that I dare hardly trust 
myself to see her, and then again I want her so that 
I know I shall cringe.” 

“ You must not do that,” said Judith. “ If you 
ever mean to be master, you must now.” She smiled a 
little to herself in the dark. “ Am I a traitor to my 
sex to say that to you, I wonder? There is a certain 
type of woman who never values what she holds on 
too secure a tenure. It is well for her that you love 
her as you do; but your love must command, not 
beseech.” 

“ And yet she says I bullied her.” 

“Yes, I know; and Mrs. Temple-Smith thinks you 
do, and pities her. I can see there has been a deep- 
reaching misunderstanding between you, and for that 
you must take your share of blame.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


247 


'' I believe I have been an ill-tempered brute lately; 
yet in the main I was right. You don’t think I ought 
to have let her go off with the Montana-Carson Com- 
pany, do you? I don’t mean to make terms with her 
about that.” 

You are right. No, I did not intend to criticise 
any particular decision of yours. You are probably 
the best judge of those matters. What I meant to 
hint was more this : Have you given her room? Have 
you recognized that she too has a very marked individ- 
uality of her own? Haven’t you perhaps treated her 
too much in the ' master in my own house ’ kind of 
spirit? ” 

I don’t know. I only know that I have loved 
her.” 

Yes, but even love may be oppressive sometimes, 
especially if the recipient does not fully respond. Per- 
haps you thought your wooing was finished when you 
put your ring on her hand. With many people that 
is only the beginning. Ah, here we are at the hall,” 
as the carriage stopped. 

He took her hand : It seems so feeble to say 

Thank you! What can one say for such goodness 
as you have shown me? ” he said. 

He knew as well as if she had admitted it, that her 
business in town was a mere nothing ; that it was pure 
pity that had taken her that long journey on that 
bleak cold day, to try to set wrong right. 

One moment,” she said ; I had almost forgotten : 
Sir Hervey wants to rehearse to-morrow, but you will 
'wish to go to town. Shall I tell him Wednesday?” 

No ; I will rehearse to-morrow if he likes. I won’t 


248 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


rush up in haste. I would rather write and say I am 
coming. To-morrow at three then.’’ 

If you are sure the whole thing is not too much 
for you when you have this trouble on your mind. If 
you would rather not be worried with it, Sir Hervey 
could get somebody ; he would write to Mr. Knowles.’’ 

She could see by the gas-lamp over the gate how his 
face darkened. 

I would get up out of my coffin and play for you 
sooner than he should have anything to do with it,” 
he said. 

He turned back once more just as the footman was 
shutting the carriage door. 

^‘You didn’t see Betty, I suppose?” he said wist- 
fully. 


XXIL 


So, Mrs. Redway, you intend to capitulate ? 

The speaker was Gage Orman, and she was sitting 
in an unconventional attitude on the corner of the 
table at which Emmie was busy with a pile of cut 
flowers and a tray of vases. She was wearing a long 
paletot trimmed with Astrakhan, and a close Astra- 
khan toque which emphasised the blackness of her 
hair and the pallor of her face. 

Emmie looked up from the chrysanthemum stalks 
she was snipping. No, certainly not. What makes 
you say that ? 

The visitor pointed to the flowers. When any- 
body goes off to High Street station so early and 
comes back laden with flowers, and happens, quite 
by chance of course, to be expecting some one to see 
her in the afternoon, one perceives that two and two 
make four.^’ 

Emmie laughed as she shook out a spray of blos- 
som. Penetration goes too deep sometimes,’’ she 
said. These are not intended as a sort of votive offer- 
ing, as you seem to imagine ; they may have a mean- 
ing, but it is not that.” 

May one know it ? ” Gage looked at Mrs. Redway 
with some degree of curiosity; she began to interest 
her. 

Simply that nothing goes farther to take off a 
lodging-housy and temporary kind of look than flow- 


249 


250 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


ers well arranged. I want to look settled, not as if 
I were camping for a night or two. You see I have 
unpacked my photos and things, and let Betty have 
her toys messing about.” 

I see. You are very astute; nevertheless I 
prophesy that you will be back in Pinecliff by night- 
fall.” 

“ I doubt it.” Em went on with her task, setting 
golden against brown, and putting her head on one 
side to look at the effect. I am not of the giving-in 
order.” 

'‘No; but if you don’t, he probably will. What 
should you do if he offered to let you have your own 
way? ” 

" What should I do if the skies were to fall ! No, 
you don’t know my husband; he will give me anything 
under the sun I wish for — except my own way. And 
that happens to be the only thing I want.” 

" Well, Portia does not trust you. She sent you 
all kinds of messages to stand to your guns, and not 
let Mrs. Grundy, in the person of Lady Gilderdale, 
sway you as she did the other day.” 

" She did not ! ” cried Emmie rather angrily. " She 
merely represented the common-sense view that I shall 
have to see Mr. Redway sooner or later to come to 
an understanding about money-matters and the child ; 
and it might just as well be sooner. I did not allow 
her to discuss my position or offer me any advice, I 
can tell you. I don’t know what made her want to 
mix herself up in it, I am sure. It is certainly no 
business of hers.” 

" Opposition to poor dear Portia, I have no doubt. 
If ever there was a martyr to her convictions, it is 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 251 

Portia Temple-Smith. The things she has had said 
of her ! 

The speaker at any rate had been a martyr to hers, 
and Emmie, who knew her story in a vague, partial 
way, wondered for an instant whether she had found 
the game worth the candle. 

I suppose we must all expect to have stones 
thrown at us, and our motives misunderstood,"' she 
said in the glib catchword phrases she had so quickly 
picked up. It is the lot of every one who sets her- 
self to right a wrong." 

'‘To right the wrong!" Gage walked to the win- 
dow, then came back with a strange gleam in her nar- 
rowed eyes. " Are you so simple as to suppose we 
shall ever do that? We are flinging ourselves against 
convention, tradition, precedent, and breaking them 
all down one after another. But don't you see that 
after all, behind them, we are flinging ourselves against 
a rock? We ought to rebel against the cruel power 
that made us women." 

Emmie looked at her, startled, but half comprehend- 
ing. 

‘‘You," she said, ‘‘to despair of the cause! You 
whom Mrs. Temple-Smith calls her henchman. But 
surely we are winning all along the line. Look at the 
position of women now, compared with what it was 
when our mothers were young, the careers open to 
us, the — But it is absurd to say all this to you." 

" Of course. I know it all better than you do. And 
at the end we are women still. Did you ever hear 
my history? I came up to London very young, to 
work as a journalist. Oh, I was emancipated if you 
like! I never was shackled by any society conven- 


252 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


tions. But in these days if you snap yours fingers in 
the face of society, it will open its arms to you. I 
did as I liked, I went where I liked, I had a rattling 
good time. I might have married over and over again, 
but I was not going to put my neck under the yoke. 
And then we had a new editor, a man they said who 
could make things spin. So he could. He was not 
young; he was awfully ugly — I wonder why it is one 
always cares so much more for ugly men! He — 
well, he did not offer to marry me; he had the same 
ideas I had always had as to there being no need for 
outside fetters when — But then he loved as men 
love, and I — like a woman. We went abroad for sev- 
eral months, and then he began to hint at making a 
change. I had never before met a man I could not 
hold, fascinate, for as long as I pleased; but then I 
loved him, and it seemed to paralyse me. Well, to 
cut a long story short, one morning he was gone. He 
had left a letter and plenty of money, and I came back 
to Portia Temple-Smith. There was nothing to be 
done, you see.’’ 

Ah,” said Emmie ; ‘‘ it is a mistake to care too 
much. If you had been wise — ” 

'' Exactly; if I had been wise. Well, Mrs. Redway,, 
take my advice, and keep your indifference as long as 
you can. It is the only armour for a woman to trust 
to. Good-bye. I wish you well through your inter- 
view.” 

Oh, must you go? Can’t you stay and have lunch 
with me?” 

Not unless you particularly want a third party to 
back you up. Mr. Redway would be ready to throw 
me out of the window, I should think.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


253 

Oh, he isn’t coming to lunch ; he wouldn’t. So 
silly of him ! I am so sorry you won’t stay.” 

And she was, genuinely; for she felt nervous about 
the coming interview, especially by and by, when the 
lunch was cleared away, and she found herself as it 
were sitting up for company.” It seemed so ridic- 
ulous to be expecting one’s husband to call like a 
visitor. When presently the maid opened the door 
and announced ‘‘ Mr. Redway,” for a moment her 
heart was in her mouth. Would he rush in and over- 
bear her defences with his impetuosity, as he had so 
often done after their differences? No : he was follow- 
ing the servant very slowly, and when he entered the 
room, holding his hat and gloves, he certainly fulfilled 
the role of afternoon caller. He came forward with- 
out offering to touch her or take her hand, and paused 
near her, resting his hand on the back of a chair. 

Won’t you sit down?” she said feebly, checking 
an hysterical inclination to giggle. 

He took no notice of the proffered chair, but be- 
gan, as soon as the door was shut, speaking very 
quietly : 

I want to understand what you mean by leaving 
my house in the way you did. You must surely have 
some reason that I cannot guess, for what you have 
done. For Heaven’s sake speak openly: tell me what 
you charge me with. Keep nothing back.” 

'' I have explained already: you had my letter?” 

Your letter? I simply cannot understand it. I 
don’t know what it means.” 

'' It means that I am pent up, stifled. I want room 
to breathe, to live my own life, which you will never 
let me have.” 


254 


THE HARP OF LIFE 


Surely you had liberty enough. You had your 
own work, your own money. What can any woman 
want more ? 

You oppress me ; you turn me into a mere shadow, 
a mere echo of yourself. I am sick of being some- 
body else’s shadow. I want to live, live, live ! '' She 
stamped her foot upon the floor at each repetition. 

“ You must be mad, I think,’’ he said. 

I must have been mad when I tied myself down 
to a miserable little narrow life in a miserable little 
narrow place like Pinecliff.” 

He looked at her. ‘‘ And you outrage my home 
and my love because you find Pinecliff dull. Good 
God!” 

There was a moment’s dead silence, and Em, who 
was standing by the mantelpiece, stole a glance at him. 
A strange feeling came over her that this was not the 
same man at whose side she had lived for more than 
two years, whom she had flouted and teased, and 
whose caresses she had despised. Was it ten days ago, 
or ten years, that his hand had taken her by the chin 
and tried to turn her face to him for his kiss, and she 
had struck him? She felt suddenly afraid of him, and 
her fear took refuge in flippancy. 

‘‘ Isn’t it rather absurd,” she asked, ‘‘ that two peo- 
ple who bore each other to extinction, cannot agree 
amicably to go each their own way without a scandal? 
You asked me just now to tell you candidly what fault 
I found with you. Well, the fault. I’ll admit, is prob- 
ably my own, but the fact remains: I am deadly tired 
of you.” 

Did the wife of Heber the Kenite wear that smile 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 255 

upon her face when she drove the nail well home 
into the temple of the man who had trusted her? 

Roger did not wince, only his lips went very white. 
Presently he spoke: 

Have you forgotten the vows you made to me 
when we stood together before God’s altar?” 

Oh, but that is only an antiquated form; besides, 
I wasn’t attending. I am sure I never promised to 
give up all my own individuality.” 

‘‘ I suppose you know that I can compel you to re- 
turn if I choose.” 

I doubt extremely whether you can do anything 
of the kind. You can go to law, I know, and get an 
order, but I am pretty sure you cannot enforce it in 
these days.” 

Well, it is of no consequence, since I do not in- 
tend to take you bacfk.” 

Em looked at him, her eyes growing round. She 
had been prepared for storming, for passionate appeals 
to her pity, but this daunted her. 

I wish to know how you mean to live and what 
you mean to do,” he went on in the same cold hard 
voice: "‘for as long as you bear my name and do 
nothing to break the legal tie between us, I am re- 
sponsible for you.” 

Em felt that the walls of her self-chosen prison were 
closing upon her. A wild impulse came over her to cry 
out that she only wanted a little freedom, a brief ex- 
periment, not to be so taken at her word; and then 
she looked at his face, set like a mask, and knew it 
was too late. She wanted to scream, but she was 
paralysed. In a moment she regained command of 
herself and said: 


256 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


‘‘ Oh, as to name, I mean to resume my old pro- 
fessional name of Rose Alba. I shall give singing 
lessons, and possibly later on join some operatic com- 
pany. I suppose there will be no difficulty about my 
having the use of my own money ? ’’ 

None whatever.’’ 

‘‘ I shall of course depend entirely on myself.” 

‘‘ Very well ; but if you find yourself in any 
pecuniary difficulty you had better let me know.” 

He took out his watch. ‘‘ Will you ring for Betty, 
please? I must be gone in five minutes. I must not 
miss the express, for I have to play at Tristerwood 
to-night.” 

That was the hardest moment of all to him. Pride 
and resentment had kept him cold and strong through 
all the bitter interview, but Betty’s pleased crowings 
and laughings, the feeling of her little soft fingers at 
his neck, went far to break him down. He carried 
her to the window and hugged her close. Em 
watched them, and a spasm of jealousy shot across 
her mind. She poked the fire viciously. Presently 
she looked round. 

'' If you feel so strongly about Betty, you had better 
keep her. I don’t want her, I’m sure; she is a dread- 
ful nuisance in lodgings.” 

I cannot take her now. I don’t intend to keep 
Ellen, and there will be no one to do for her. While 
she is such a baby she had better stay with you. Later 
on I shall certainly have her.” 

He had another reason: he remembered what Lady 
Gilderdale had said — The child will keep her safe.’^ 
While Betty was with her he felt that Em was not 
wholly cut adrift. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


^S7 


'' Look here/’ he said, if you let any harm come 
to her, or let her grow up hating me, may God judge 
you for it! ” 

He loosened the baby’s clinging fingers and set her 
on the sofa, and ran down the stairs, trying not to 
hear the wail she sent up after him. 

Half an hour later Mrs. Temple-Smith came in. 
Emmie was walking restlessly about the room with 
very pink cheeks. 

So you really have not vanished, as I more than 
half expected,” cried the visitor. Good child! Well 
done! ” and she patted her on the shoulder. 

Oh, the enemy is completetly routed,” said Emmie 
with a little unsteady laugh. ‘‘ I am free to pursue 
my own road without molestation. He really was 
wonderfully reasonable — more so than I expected.” 

Well, let us celebrate victory by a little dinner 
somewhere, and Ibsen at the Independent afterwards. 
That would be appropriate, don’t you think?” 

By all means ; the very thing. I own I feel a lit- 
tle unsettled. Oh, do you know I offered Betty as a 
compromise, and he would not have her.” 

I am not surprised. No doubt he will rejoice in 
a little bachelor freedom too.” 

Oh, I don’t know that it was altogether that.” A 
vision came across her of Roger’s face when he raised 
it from bidding good-bye to the child, but she stifled 
the remembrance. Well, I feel inclined for some 
fun to-night; I’ll go and get my things on.” 

She ran up-stairs, laughing, and singing snatches 
from the Geisha.” 


XXIIL 


The music-room at Tristerwood had for that eve- 
ning quite parted with its chapel-like character; 
filled with radiant colour, with soft light, with the 
hum of well-bred voices, its charm was of quite a dif- 
ferent kind. The masses of chrysanthemums, the tall 
palms which filled every corner made an exquisite 
background for the dresses, the jewels, the fair faces, 
which crowded the long room, and the myriads of 
wax-lights in silver sconces against the wall lent a 
mellow light, which made every woman look her best. 

For Heaven’s sake, no electric light!” Sir Hervey 
had said. To say nothing of the martyrdom to one’s 
eyes, one does not wish to count every grain of pow- 
der on a woman’s nose.” So the antique silver 
branches which had lighted up Gilderdale festivities 
in the days of Queen Anne were once more brought 
into requisition. 

** How beautiful Judith Gilderdale is looking to- 
night!” remarked an old friend, putting up a pair of 
long-handled eye-glasses to watch her as she moved 
slowly down the room to greet a new arrival, stately 
in white brocade cut in an antique fashion, with dia- 
monds on her neck and in her hair. What a mar- 
vellous recovery it has been. I never thought to see 
her take her place in the world again.” 

And how young she looks ! ” responded the lady 

258 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


259 

addressed, with her slender figure and her fair skin, 
in spite of the white hair/^ 

Ah, well, she is but thirty-seven after all, and that 
is the prime with many Englishwomen/’ 

And those placid women wear well, because they 
take nothing to heart. Happy for her to have that 
temperament with such a terrible affliction. Those 
diamonds on the white hair make me think of the 
glitter of a snow-drift. She puts one in mind of the 
Snow Queen, so immovable, so cold.” 

The last words were audible to the violinist, who 
stood by the curve of the grand piano, taking his in- 
strument from its case: for the quartet was about to 
begin. A smile touched the gravity of his face for an 
instant. He at least knew better. 

He had noted with what gracious tact she had men- 
tioned and apologised for the absence of the soprano, 
to one or another where she fancied gossip and 
speculation might have taken root. ‘‘ Yes, they were 
disappointed not to have the Bergeuse with violin 
obligato — it was always so popular; but Mrs. Red- 
way was in town just now, and could not manage to 
run down for it as she had hoped to persuade her. 
She saw her on Monday at Mrs. Temple-Smith’s. So 
Major Abbott was going to give them some Schubert 
instead.” And so on, smoothing the way for Emmie’s 
return. But he knew Judith’s kindness was all in vain. 

His first solo was a prelude and fugue of Bach’s, a 
very brilliant chromatic one — Sir Hervey’s choice. It 
was magnificently played, but it did not take the au-^ 
dience. 

Do you like Redway’s playing? ” said some one 
doubtfully, to his neighbour. 


26.0 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


'' Oh, it is the sort of thing one is bound to like, 
isn’t it? It is wonderful to get such a full rich tone 
in those rapid passages. Gilderdale is an excellent 
judge; he thinks a great deal of him. He certainly 
has very fine qualities.” 

I see he is down for that lovely Schumann thing. 
How seldom people know what suits them ! ” 

That did not come till the end of the evening. 
Clemency Fane’s rendering of Saint Saen’s Rondo 
Capriccioso was much more warmly applauded than 
the professional solo had been, not only because she 
was a woman and one of themselves, but because the 
music appealed far more to the sensuous taste of the 
half-musical audience than the intellectual severity of 
Bach. 

Presently there was a lull in the talk, and heads 
were turned towards the platform again with polite 
attention. And then, as the long wailing notes stole 
out, it seemed as though a hand were laid on each 
one of the crowd, and every man was for a moment 
brought face to face with the secret of his own soul 
— with long-buried sorrow, with joy that would never 
come again, with unsatisfied longings, with hopes 
that would never find their earthly close; with all the 
pathos and mystery of life, and the despair of it. Some 
hung on every note, some kept their heads bent 
down, looking at their programmes because their eyes 
were wet. When it ceased, there was for an instant 
that hush that is a tribute better than any applause; 
then the inevitable stupid clamour broke out, and 
when the violinist reappeared in the doorway through 
which he had just vanished, to bow his acknowledg- 
ments, there was a demand for an encore. The obtuse 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


261 


public, roused to a rare sensation, wanted to experi- 
ence it again, ignorant of the fact that those moments 
cannot be repeated. 

Once more he bowed and went, and Lady Gilder- 
dale, who had been playing the accompaniment, after 
a word to Major Abbott, followed him. He was stand- 
ing by the window in the small library which opened 
out of the music-room, and had been kept for the 
performers. He looked round. 

Oh, I cannot play again,’’ he said brusquely. 

‘‘ You shall not. Stay here where it is quiet and 
cool. I have asked Major Abbott to sing something 
more; Miss Fane will play for him. For myself, I 
don’t feel as if I could listen to anything else just 
yet.” 

He did not answer, and presently she added: I 
do thank you very much for making the effort to play 
for us to-night. I am afraid we ought hardly to have 
asked it of you.” 

I feel,” he said after a minute, as if I had been 
coining my heart’s blood for the amusement of your 
guests. It is hardly decent.” 

He turned back to the window again and leaned 
upon the sill. It was a mild November night, very 
still and breathless, and the window stood wide open. 
The long sob of the surge, unbroken by any wuther 
of wind, rolled the whole length of the shore with its 
changeless rhythm. It was a very restful contrast to 
the hum of voices that rose and fell on the other side 
of the door. 

It was characteristic of Judith that she asked him 
no question, deeply though she was interested in his 
trouble. She just stood quietly beside him, and her 


262 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


silent compassion touched his senses like a perfume. 
He watched the far distant ruby light on the headland 
appear and vanish and appear again many times, be- 
fore he spoke. At last he said: 

'' I saw her to-day.'' 

To-day?" 

‘'Yes; she wired she had an engagement yester- 
day, so I went up for an hour this afternoon." Then 
after another long pause — “ It is all over." 

“What is over? Your quarrel?" 

“ Our married life. The whole thing." 

“ I did not try. I could not compel her to live with 
me if she will not. And then — I felt that I no longer 
wished to. She said things — oh, I can't tell you ! " 

“ There is no need ; it is better not. I am so deeply 
sorry for you both. But you must not give up hope." 

“ There is nothing left to hope for," he said. “ You 
don’t understand; it is utter disillusionment. I have 
lost my past as well as my present and my future. It 
was a phantom I have been squandering my heart on 
all this time, not her. I — oh, I have come to hate — " 
He stopped, and an expression that was not good to 
see crossed his face. 

“ Hush," said Judith, laying her cool hand on his. 
“Don't say it; don't let yourself think it. Try and 
believe that the one you loved was the real self that 
has somehow got obscured for a little." 

“ Oh, the horror of it ! " he went on, speaking rap- 
idly. “ Thank God I have got back with clean hands. 
If I had let myself go one instant — " He pulled him- 
self up. “ I have no business to say these things to 
you. I forget myself ; you have been too good to me.'^ 

“ You hardly know what you say," she said piti- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


263 


fully. ‘‘ You are new to suffering, and it seems intoler- 
able ; but it will not last. Those who have walked with 
sorrow know the infinite possibilities that lie beyond.'' 

'' There is no beyond to this." 

I know it must seem so. In the dark we can see 
nothing but our own pain; but the dawn will come. 
In God's hand there are healings that we do not dream 
of." 

It is ho use to speak to me of God," he answered. 

God has mocked me. I was straight, and then this 
comes to me." 

The very boyishness of the words struck her with 
a sense of pathos. It was the elementary notion of 
the child or the savage that suffering is necessarily 
retribution. That there might be deeper purposes of 
discipline had not entered his mind. 

Through the door behind her came the sound of 
the refrain of a song Major Abbott was singing — a 
song in fashion when he was young: 

‘‘ For gold must be tried by fire, 

And the heart must be tried by pain.^* 

Judith noticed the curious appropriateness of the 
words, and wondered whether Redway did; but he had 
passed out of hearing of such things. In the furnace 
of living pain " in which he was standing, the words 
of a hackneyed song could not penetrate. To him 
the mellow voice sounded no more distinct than the 
measured pulse of the sea. 

Out of her bitter hard-won experience Judith would 
fain have reached him some of the medicines that had 
helped her, but she recognised the futility of outside 


264 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


help, the solitude in which each soul must stand, and 
held her peace. His pain itself must teach him; 
nothing else could. 

‘‘ I must go now. The song is ended, and the people 
will be beginning to take leave. Good-night. God 
help you ! 


XXIV. 


Spring was on her way, though not quite arrived; 
there were stirrings in the pinewoods, little rustlings 
of small creatures waking from their winter sleep and 
creeping out to look about them and form their plans 
for the good time that was coming; sharp green hooks 
of bracken thrust themselves up through last year’s 
dead leaves, and in sheltered corners the wind-flowers 
peeped out. Already the blackbird began to tune his 
mellow throat, and the storm-cock was fluting to his 
love. But there was no spring in Roger’s heart; it 
was all hard frozen. 

Men take their troubles very differently from 
women ; they don’t nurse a sore heart and take it to 
church and district-visiting, and feed it on scraps of 
poetry, as the softer half of humanity is apt to do; 
they resent it, and try to stifle or distract it with what- 
ever comes to hand. Roger tried work first, but that to 
some extent failed him : for he found himself with more 
leisure than he had had for years. It was inevitable 
that people should conclude that there must be some- 
thing seriously amiss in a man whose wife could not 
live with him, and careful heads of schools and col- 
leges, where the greater part of his work lay, informed 
him politely after Christmas that they had made other 
arrangements. A music-master’s reputation is almost 
as delicate a thing as a doctor’s, and the comment — 
“ Oh, do you have Mr. Redway for your girls? Isn’t 

265 


266 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


there something queer about him ? '' passed on its way 
like a rumour of scarlatina. 

He did his best to amuse himself, to seek out the 
friends and pursuits of his bachelor days, but distrac- 
tions wanted a much higher flavour now ; things that 
used to seem the best fun in the world had become 
simply boring. There is nothing more impossible in 
this life than to go back. People began to look 
askance at him and say he was going to the dogs. But 
for his fiddle, most likely he would have gone there : 
but the music stayed him ; he practised more than 
he had done for years. 

It was one day in this early spring that he saw in the 
Pinecliff Observer an announcement that Sir Hervey 
and Lady Gilderdale had returned from the south of 
France where they had been wintering, and taken up 
their residence in Tristerwood. They had been abroad 
almost ever since the Tristerwood reception, and he 
had never seen Judith since that evening. How won- 
derfully sweet her compassion had been! but she was 
quite wrong about trouble doing one good. It was 
what good women always fancied, but it was quite the 
other way; he felt himself a worse man than he had 
been last year. How much he would like to see her 
again ! but it was hardly likely he ever would, in the 
old way. Most likely by this time Sir Hervey would 
have taken up another hobby or another fiddler, and 
would not want him ; and she — why, she had probably 
forgotten his very existence. He could be nothing to 
her, only she was so very pitiful. 

He was about to give a concert, and wondered 
whether they would see his advertisement in the local 
paper and come to it. He ought to have sent Sir 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 267 

Hervey a programme, only some odd feeling of shy- 
ness or pride withheld him. 

They were there, however, sitting near the front 
with that curious air of aloofness that distinguished 
them both, and set them so apart from the general 
crowd. Redway did not look towards them, hardly 
seemed aware of their presence, but he was playing to 
them — to her. 

Judith,’" said Sir Hervey presently, ‘‘ do you notice 
what a difference there is in Redway’s playing since 
last year? ” 

Yes I do, and it makes me rather unhappy.” 

But it is an improvement.” 

'^Yes, it is an improvement, I know; but it tells 
too much of the cost.” 

Oh, I don’t know that ; he has been working, evi- 
dently, but I think it is less that than feeling. He al- 
ways did get a wonderfully rich, full tone. He has a 
more supple arm and wrist than any man I know — 
unless it is Nachez ; and no doubt he has been work- 
ing that up; his bowing is at once so powerful and 
so delicate. But what I observed was more the in- 
creased perception and depth; you know I used to 
think him at times a little wanting there. I don’t 
find any over-attention to technique.” 

Ah, no ; what I meant was that it made one sad. 
It used to be such happy, contented, joyous kind of 
playing. It gave one the bright sides of life, and 
passed over the dark places with nothing sadder than 
gravity. Now it is full of restlessness and strain.” 

^^Too modern and morbid for your taste perhaps. 
Clemency would like it. Do you remember she used 
to say in her whimsical way that if Redway could get 


268 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


his heart broken, his playing would be all the better 
for it. Who was it defined Music as ‘ flowers rooted 
in pain " ? he added dreamily. And then the next 
number began, and they were silent. 

Looking round as they came out, Judith caught 
sight of the violinist coming down the corridor, and 
made Sir Hervey wait for him. 

‘‘ What was that you played as an encore to the 
last thing?’’ she asked when the customary civilities 
about the concert and about their long absence abroad 
had been exchanged. 

‘‘ That? Oh, that was an unpublished thing, written 
by a fellow.” 

I thought so,” she said ; ‘‘ but I had no idea you 
composed.” 

‘‘ Oh, I don’t, in the orthodox way. I did not know 
I could at all till just lately. Sometimes a thing just 
comes as an improvisation, and I write it down. Did 
you like it?” 

'' Did I ? I am not quite sure. It is very weird, and 
it takes hold of one ; but it hurts.” 

‘‘ It was a very original theme,” said Sir Hervey, 
and very finely worked out, but you wanted a re- 
turn to the first subject ; it left off too raggedly. I have 
a very rare work on composition, by a Frenchman, 
which I should like to show you. When will you 
come over to Tristerwood? ” 

“ I should like very much to come,” he said, look- 
ing at Lady Gilderdale, and his hand clung a little to 
hers as she wished him good-night. 

A very few days after he came, riding over on his 
bicycle one blustering March afternoon, tearing 
through the gathering dusk as if the fiends were after 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


269 


him — as in truth he felt they were. He had got to one 
of the tangled places in life, where it seemed he could 
hardly win through. He felt the net of evil influences 
closing about him, and suddenly had come the remem- 
brance that she who had helped him before, in his 
despair, was not out of reach. He did not want to 
ask for counsel or aid; in the present strait she could 
give him neither — only to take sanctuary in her pres- 
ence. 

There were visitors lingering after tea in the fire- 
lighted drawing-room, and he could exchange but a 
bare word with the hostess. He apologised for the 
lateness of his visit, and produced the pretext he had 
provided himself with, a prospectus of some subscrip- 
tion chamber-concerts which he wanted to set 
on foot — a project which was sure to win Sir 
Hervey’s support. As soon as he had explained 
his scheme and discussed details a little, he rose to go. 
He had been a fool to come. What good could it do 
him to stand for just one moment in that atmos- 
phere of purity and peace, when he must needs go out 
again into the dark to fight his difficulty as best he 
could? Just to look at that fair, gracious woman, who 
lived in a different world from his — ^what good could 
that do him? 

But Sir Hervey would not hear of letting him go. 
He must stay and dine, and they would go over a 
trio of Raff’s he had just got down. Dress? never 
mind that; they would be quite alone. No fiddle? 
Well, he should have the Strad., for once, out of the 
Italian cabinet. And then the carriage was announced 
to take the visitors home, and Sir Hervey escorted 
them to the hall. 


270 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


Redway was standing beside the hearth, and as he 
looked down at Lady Gilderdale in her low chair, he 
met her serious gray eyes regarding him with a look 
of kindly interest, and suddenly he knew that he had 
not lost his friend: she was just the same as when 
he had seen her last. 

'' How have you been getting on ? ’’ she asked. 

Come and sit here and tell me all about yourself.’’ 

I am not getting on at all, from a material point of 
view,” he said. ‘‘ I have lost more than a third of my 
pupils. It seems rather absurd, but it appears that the 
existence of Mrs. Redway was a sort of patent of re- 
spectability, and I find myself a social pariah now.” 

'' How cruelly unjust! ” cried Judith. 

Yes, but upon my word I don’t see how you can 
blame people; it is very natural. I can’t go about 
proclaiming my innocence. After all, it has its good 
side : Do you remember warning me once that I 
was swamping the artist in the music-master? Well, I 
haven’t the chance to do that now.” 

'' But surely Mrs. Redway will come home soon? 
I hoped to have found that she was back already.” 

He shook his head. That will not be,” he said. 

'' Do you know,” said Judith earnestly, '' I believe 
you will find that she is heartily sick of her experiment 
by this time, and only longing to come back; but she 
is too proud to say so.” 

Then she may take pride for her bedfellow.” 

He rose to his feet again, and stood leaning on the 
mantelpiece. 

'‘Have you seen your little girl?” Judith asked 
after a momentary pause. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 271 

Don’t. I am trying to forget I ever had a little 
girl.” 

Lady Gilderdale rose too, and went and stood beside 
him. 

You are making a very great mistake if you are 
trying to do that,” she said. 

'' I don’t know. I am on the verge of making havoc 
of my life altogether, and if I do, there will be no place 
for Betty in it.” 

“ But you will not. You will be true to your best 
self.” 

'' Shall I ? I wish I thought so. Somehow when 
one has been treated as I have been, it seems to give 
one a kind of license to be as bad as it is in one to 
be.” 

But you don’t want to. I can see that you are 
fighting against it.” 

'' I suppose I am. Do you know I had a super- 
stitious kind of feeling that if only I could get to you, 
you would help me somehow. I was fleeing from 
myself — or from the devil.” 

He did not apologise for using a word not usually 
spoken; he knew Judith was not the kind of woman 
whom plain words offend. 

There was silence for a minute. Through the rents 
in the veil of conventionality Judith could see strange 
things, and she felt as though she were indeed strug- 
gling with the devil for this man’s soul. Instinct rather 
than knowledge of the world told her something of 
the peril in which he stood, and she knew there were 
strong potentialities in him, for evil as for good. A 
sense of her own impotence — of the impotence of mere 
words — swept over her, and of the power she had by 


272 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


simply being what she was, she took no count. And 
then Sir Hervey came back. 

How could she help him? Yet how be deaf to his 
appeal ? What could any human being do foir another 
in such strait, still less one whom circumstances set 
so far off? Yet speech is not the only channel of in- 
fluence, and while she grieved that she could do noth- 
ing, his resolve was drawing new strength: he was 
realising that he could never stand shamed in that 
presence; if he took that downward step he was be- 
ing beckoned to, he would cut himself off for ever from 
her influence. He was very silent. The evening was 
spent in music, and all he had to say, he put into 
the notes. 

When he was gone, she went up to her husband, 
who was gathering the loose sheets of music together. 

‘‘ Hervey,’’ she said, I want you to be a little kind 
to Mr. Redway. He seems to have had a hard winter, 
and to have lost a good deal of work; people are vis- 
iting his wife’s sins on him heavily.” 

‘‘ Ah, I remember there was some odd story about 
him just before we went away. What did he do? ” 

‘‘ Nothing; that is just the hard part of it. I met 
his wife at Portia’s house soon after she went away, 
and she told me herself that she had no cause of com- 
plaint against her husband, except that she found him 
dictatorial. It seems Portia got hold of her, and 
stuffed her head with her wild notions of a woman’s 
right to absolute independence, and Mrs. Redway, 
having an unfortunately logical mind, is carrying them 
out to the bitter end. I feel a little responsible, as it 
was I who mentioned her to Portia as a singing-mis- 
tress.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


273 

What a fool he must be, not to insist on her go- 
ing back! 

You see the quarrel has deepened into an es- 
trangement. You cannot wonder at his feeling a bit- 
ter resentment, for I believe he was very fond of her. 
I hope it may come right in the end, but meantime I 
think those who know the story should show that 
they think he ought not to be tabooed.'’ 

^‘That cousin of mine is the most mischievous 
woman I ever came across. She ought not to be at 
large. What are lunatic asylums for, I should like to 
know? Well, Judith, we can subscribe to these cham- 
ber-concerts of his, and we can have some more prac- 
tices here, as we did last year, if you think it won't 
bore you. For my part I always enjoy music with 
professionals: they keep you up to the mark." 


XXV. 


The Signorina Marta Ercolani, after a ten years' 
residence in England, still felt herself an exile and an 
alien. Nothing but her devotion to her Giannino, 
and her conviction that he was quite incapable of 
taking care of himself, would have kept her a week in 
so detestable a country. In sunny Pinecliff, she could 
not complain, as foreign visitors to England are so apt 
to do, that she never saw the face of the sky; but it 
was not the unclouded heavens, the glowing sunshine, 
the gray olives and blue sea, the vines and pome- 
granates that she hankered after; not the pictures nor 
the churches, not the old world, classic, romantic, 
mediaeval, which Italy means to the traveller, for 
which she yearned; but rather for a certain narrow 
calk, into which the sun rarely penetrated, a meagre 
apartment, bare and scantily furnished, which to her 
meant home. The art treasures of Bologna, its an- 
cient buildings, the departed glories of its University, 
were little or nothing to her; but her soul longed for 
a certain small modern church, whitewashed and 
gilded, where the Madonna was arrayed in much tin- 
sel and imitation lace, and the altars were gay with 
bunches of artificial flowers. The severe dignity and 
beauty of the Catholic Cathedral at Pinecliff left her 
cold. 

Still more she pined for the white-walled convent 
outside the town, with its prim ilex-shaded flowerless 


274 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


275 


garden, through whose long alleys she used to pace as 
a girl, and where she had thought her vocation lay. 
She was a good woman and not self-willed; she rec- 
ognised the call of God in her home, and had faith- 
fully tended her aged parents till their death. Then, 
when she was actually preparing for her long-delayed 
novitiate, home claims once more intervened; she had 
to go to her brother in his crushing bereavement, and 
she remained with him in the adopted country which 
would never be home to her. 

Giovanni, who had come to England when little 
more than a boy, and had married an English wife, 
had got entirely acclimatised, but Marta had made 
the attempt too late in life. For Ercolani his own 
country had become impossible; he had been seriously 
involved in the struggles which preceded the setting 
up of United Italy,’’ and since he was on the losing 
side, had found himself proscribed. A musician 
carries his country with him, but Marta was no mu- 
sician; she approved of music as something that in- 
terested her brother and took him out of his troubles; 
to her it meant little. She was a prim woman, with 
none of the typical Italian’s grace and charm. Her 
black hair, which at nearly sixty showed no thread of 
gray, was brought rigidly down each side of her face, 
and kept in its place by bandoline which gave it a 
high polish, and she invariably wore a black alpaca 
apron and black silk mittens. 

Redway, who had called late one afternoon in the 
hope of finding Ercolani, was rather dismayed to be 
shown in to the Signorina, who was sitting alone in 
the front parlour, occupied in the manufacture of 
worsted flowers of a variety unknown to botanists. 


276 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


** My brother has not yet returned/’ she observed, 
in her formal exercise-book English, “ but I expect 
him every moment. Pray be seated.” 

‘‘ So you have lost your inmate, Signorina,” he said 
presently, when the weather had been disposed of. 
“ You must find it rather lonely with John out so 
much.” 

The men in the orchestra who were at all intimate 
with Ercolani always called him John, for some rea- 
son best known to themselves. 

“ I am accustomed to solitude and have always use- 
ful occupations at hand. But yes; Miss Gaunt was a 
very acceptable inmate, and I miss her greatly. She 
had lived much in my dear country, and she liked my 
ways.” She sighed. 

‘‘Do you think of letting your rooms again?” he 
asked tentatively. 

She shook her head. “ I think not. I shrink from 
strangers, and it really is not necessary : my wants and 
those of Giannino are very simple.” 

“ I came really to ask John if he thought he could 
take me in. I am not quite a stranger, you see. Do 
you think you could consider it? ” 

The Signorina drew herself up. “We do not take 
gentlemen boarders,” she said. “ The case of Miss 
Gaunt was exceptional. She was known to my family 
in Bologna.” 

“ Quite so. I see you would not like it. Excuse 
my having asked you.” He rose to take leave, feel- 
ing more vexed and rebuffed than there was any occa- 
sion for, for the cold shoulder turned to him in many 
quarters had made him feel sore. 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


277 


Do I understand you are giving up your house? '' 
she inquired. 

** I have just put it into the agent’s hands to let it 
furnished. One can usually get a tenant in Pinecliff, 
with all the coming and going. It is on my hands 
for more than half a year yet.” 

‘‘ You are not, then, expecting the return of Mrs. 
Redway and your little daughter this spring? ” The 
Signorina looked at him severely as she put the ques- 
tion. 

I am not.” He answered shortly and went out. 

At the front door he encountered Ercolani, just let- 
ting himself in with his key. 

Why, Dodge, I haven’t seen you for months. 
What have you been doing with yourself? Come in 
again. So glad I did not miss you ! ” 

I don’t think I will, thanks. I have just been pay- 
ing your sister a visit, and I don’t expect she wants 
an encore. You are late.” 

‘‘ Yes, an extra practice. Knowles has got into one 
of his states of mind over this new Tchaikovsky 
symphony, and you know what that means. We have 
lost three men over it already.” 

Roger laughed. It is a subject on which I mustn’t 
make remarks,” he said. He picked up his hat. 

No, no, I can’t let you go off like this without a 
word. Come in here — ” opening, as he spoke, the 
door of a little back room. 

‘‘Well, and how wags the world with you?” he 
went on, pushing round a big shabby armchair, and 
seating himself opposite. 

Roger shrugged his shoulders. “ It is not a very 
lively world just at present. I am thinking of trying 


278 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


a new venture. Pinecliff seems to me to lack good 
chamber-music. I have a notion of running a set of 
subscription concerts. Do you think it would pay?’' 

“ With Sir Hervey Gilderdale at your back, it may; 
but you know Knowles won’t let it if he can hinder.” 

I know it, and I fight at a disadvantage; but I 
must do something.” 

You are right. I don’t want to discourage you. 
I think you are spoiling for a fight.” 

Roger smiled rather grimly. I feel inclined for 
one. I have been rather down on my luck this win- 
ter. I have made up my mind to chuck housekeeping 
and live in rooms.” 

Ercolani looked at him sorrowfully. ‘‘ I am afraid 
that means — ” 

‘‘ Of course it does. The thing is at an end abso- 
lutely and for good. In one way I expect this new 
move of mine will make my position rather worse 
than it is at present, but I can’t help that. The truth 
is, I cannot stand it any longer. I shall do something 
bad if I stay on in that horrible little house.” 

‘‘Why not come to us? We have a spare room, 
you know.” 

“ My dear John, I came to propose that very thing, 
but your good sister won’t hear of it.” 

“ Oh, nonsense! She has an idea, I dare say, that 
you might not like her Italian cookery or some of her 
fads. Never you mind Marta; it is my house, and I 
want you.” 

“ It is awfully good of you, John; but I could not 
come and quarter myself where I felt I was unwel- 
come.” 

“ You don’t know Marta; she is a woman to whom 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


279 


every new idea is unwelcome. She will be all right 
when she knows I wish it. Never was there so good 
a sister! You could board with us if you don’t dis- 
like our un-English ways, and have this little den to 
yourself for practising. Come, promise me you won’t 
make any other arrangement till you hear from me 
again.” 

Nothing could have been better for Redway at this 
juncture than to find a corner in the Ercolani house- 
hold. Naturally of a friendly and sociable disposi- 
tion, he was for the moment almost without friends. 
The chasm that had opened between him and Knowles 
had cut away a good many of his former associates; 
in the early days of his marriage, he hardly missed 
them: he was too much taken up with his wife; and 
since his trouble he had been too proud, too sore, to 
bear any near approach. In spite of the way he had 
received Ercolani’s sympathy at the time, it had borne 
fruit, and his feeling for him was more than mere 
liking; it was a very deep-rooted respect. There was 
a force and a repose about the elder man that made 
those who knew him rely on him, though amongst 
the generality of the men he might pass for a dull old 
fogy. There was something in common between his 
character and the instrument on which he played: no 
display, but a deep, true, reliable ground-bass upon 
which others could rest. Roger rested on it and be- 
gan to be healed. 

There was nothing that inspired him with greater 
respect than did Giovanni’s unfaltering cheerfulness. 
That a man who had seen the cause he loved go down; 
who, in failing health, dared not seek an asylum in 
his own country, but must live and die an exile; who, 


28 o 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


in one terrible sweep, had lost all he held dear; and 
who now knew himself in the clutch of an inexorable 
disease, and could bear himself not only with patience 
and courage, but with cheer, could find delight in 
his work, could enter with the zest of a boy into the 
charm of new music and the beauty of the world 
around — was a thing to be reverenced. 

One morning after breakfast as the two men were 
preparing to go off on their several avocations, Roger 
caught sight of a well-known figure coming up the 
steps to the front door. 

There’s Knowles coming to speak to you,” he 
said. ‘‘ I shall levant.” He slipped into his little den 
while the bell was being answered. In a moment the 
door was pushed open. 

“ It is you Knowles wants. Dodge,” said Ercolani, 
and left them together. 

I have had a letter from your wife, Redway,” be- 
gan the visitor, without any circumlocution, and it 
seemed to me the proper thing was to bring it to you 
before I answered it.” 

Roger’s tongue never hurried him into hasty 
speech. He expressed none of the astonishment he 
felt, as he held out his hand in dead silence for the 
letter the other proffered. It was very brief and busi- 
nesslike. 

. . Long ago,” she wrote, you promised me 
introductions to musical people in town who might 
help me on. I suppose you could still give them to 
me, and I should be very glad. Everything is so 
crowded. Lessons are plentiful enough if one is 
cheap, but I don’t want to be cheap, and I want to do 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


281 


something better. What I really want is to get en- 
gagements to sing. . . 

Roger handed it back. ‘‘ Thanks,” he said; I sup- 
pose you can do it ? ” 

Certainly I can if you wish it. I did not choose 
to help Mrs. Redway without your knowledge.” 

** I am very much obliged to you, but I can have 
no objection. Mrs. Redway and I have agreed to go 
each our own way. She prefers work in town to work 
in Pinecliff ; I prefer Pinecliff .” 

Knowles looked at him curiously. Well, good- 
morning,” he said, going towards the door. But be- 
fore he reached it Redway took a step after him. 

Look here,” he said, I suppose it is not neces- 
sary to say, you’ll be a little careful what sort you give 
her. There are lots of impresarios and fellows who — 
well, you know what I mean : — A woman alone.” 

Certainly. I had thought of Madame Salieri 
Smithson; she has an excellent school of singing, and 
launches people extremely well ; or there is old 
Benedetti — a regular grandfather.” 

Going up the hill to the Palm-house, Knowles over- 
took Ercolani. 

‘‘ I suppose you understand Redway’s affairs,” he 
said. What on earth does it mean ? a wife and not 
a wife! One minute he declares that she is nothing to 
him and he has washed his hands of her, and the next 
he is in a state of mind lest one should let any harm 
come to her.” 

Don’t ask me,” said Ercolani. I don’t profess 
to understand your Englishwomen.” 

Don’t call them my Englishwomen. Thank God, 
I have nothing to do with any of them ! ” 


XXVI. 


Judith Gilderdale was one of those people who 
play best alone or to one congenial listener. She 
would never be a show pianiste, but she had a gift 
which made her a better interpreter of Chopin than 
many a more brilliant performer. It was not only 
that her long fingers had the singing touch that let 
no thread of melody be lost through all the maze of 
arabesques, not only her perfect sense of balanced 
rhythm and significant phrasing, but the power of en- 
tering by a singular affinity into all the moods of that 
complex nature : not the tender, dreamy, poetic alone, 
but the wild, the fantastic, the bizarre, found expres- 
sion. It was strange, perhaps, that it should have 
been so: that this quiet woman whose outward life 
had been so calm and uneventful should have been 
able to give utterance to all the passion, all the 
ecstasy, the dark moods as well as the bright, the fan- 
tasy as well as the poetry with which his work brims 
over. Possibly the quiet life sought its one emotional 
outlet there. 

One morning she had taken up the Preludes, and 
had been playing some while when she became aware 
that she had a listener; there was no sound, but she 
felt that she was playing to some one, and looking 
round she saw that Redway had entered noiselessly 
and was standing behind her. 

‘‘ I am so sorry I came in,’’ he said. I ought to 

282 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 283 

have listened outside, but it was a magnet. Do please 
go on.’’ 

She was in the mood to play; she turned a leaf or 
two and continued. It was the Prelude in A flat she 
had chosen, the one with a sound of a death-knell 
through all the last repetition of the beautiful subject. 
Some have thought they heard in it the foreboding 
of the composer’s approaching death. Perhaps what 
he heard was the knell of the love that had failed him, 
the farewell to the sweetest earthly joy, which he was 
never to know. 

The listener stole softly to the window and stood 
there, but his eyes were not on the river, but on her 
face. She was far too much absorbed to be conscious 
of them, but presently when she ceased, and turning 
met his gaze, there was something there that gave 
her a moment’s uneasiness. She rose from the piano 
and began turning over the pile of music that lay at 
hand. 

We must get to work,” she said, speaking more 
briskly than her wont. I must not waste any more 
of your precious time. I have been practising the 
Grieg Sonata, but I find it horribly difficult. Shall we 
try it?” 

“ Not to-day,” he said, if you don’t mind. I am 
not in the mood for Grieg. Let us take that Rubin- 
stein thing.” 

She assented, and they began the Sonata in D, the 
most beautiful that that unequal composer has ever 
written. She had never heard Redway play like this 
before. She did not feel as if she were playing an ac- 
companiment, but rather as though she were herself 
part of the instrument on which he played. The violin 


284 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


seemed to lend strong pinions on which she felt her- 
self borne along. After the slow movement they 
ceased, and she turned to him with a slight flush on 
her face. 

''Ah, that movement again,’’ she said; "the last 
half — from here.” 

She rose and standing beside his desk laid her hand 
an instant on the page, pointing to the passage. As 
she took it away, with a sudden impulsive movement 
he stooped and pressed his lips where her fingers had 
rested. 

She saw, and would have thought it fancy but for 
the rush of crimson that mounted to his forehead as 
his eyes met hers. She turned quickly back to the 
piano. 

" On second thoughts, we will not have an encore,” 
she said; " it is always a mistake. We will take Grieg 
now.” 

She found the place and dashed into a prelude in a 
key quite foreign to the one she wanted. As she found 
her way from one modulation to another, feeling that 
she must play on at all hazards, she tried to realise 
what had happened and what it meant. Oddly enough, 
it seemed more significant than if he had kissed 
the hand itself: that might pass for an act of exag- 
gerated homage, but this must mean a very different 
feeling. Was it wisest to take no notice? She was 
well aware that he knew she had seen it, and her face 
flamed. It is often best to let things be as though 
they had not been; but there comes a moment when 
to ignore is to permit. And she could permit noth- 
ing that should mar his loyalty or hers 

Was it possible that she who had thought to help 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


285 


him, to be an influence for good, could have herself 
become a snare to him ? The risk of such a thing had 
never presented itself to her. Her seniority empha- 
sised by her white hair her position, setting her 
so entirely aloof from him that their lives touched 
but at one point, no less than the fact that the sorrow 
which had for awhile brought him close to her sym- 
pathies had been sorrow for another woman, had set 
such a possibility wholly out of view. She had been 
quite blind to certain signs of late that perhaps would 
not have been lost on a more worldly woman; but 
in such matters Judith was as inexperienced as a child. 
She felt as if she were in some horrible nightmare, as, 
without thought, almost without consciousness, she 
mechanically went through the difficult music before 
her. The Sonata was a long one, but they played to 
the end without pause; then she rose from the piano. 

I think that will be sufficient for to-day,” she 
said. 

He bowed silently and began to put up his instru- 
ment. 

She remained standing, and presently spoke with a 
certain effort. Her face was blanched. 

I think,” she said, we will not have any more 
practices at present. Sir Hervey and I shall be going 
away in a few weeks, and shall be away some time, and 
in the meantime we shall have people staying in the 
house and shall be a good deal occupied. This must 
be our last.” 

His face was as white as hers, as he looked up from 
the violin-case he was fumbling with. 

‘‘ Is this my sentence of banishment? ” 

'' If you take it so, yes.” 


286 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


There was a minute’s dead silence. She had noth- 
ing to add, nor he anything to extenuate. His fingers 
were unconsciously tightening the keys of his violin. 
A sudden sharp sound broke the stillness; one of the 
strings had snapped. 

He fastened the case, then straightened himself and 
looked at her with a certain dignity. 

You are quite right. It will be better that I should 
not come here any more at present. Good-bye.” 

He did not approach her nor offer his hand, but 
went silently away through the sunlit garden into the 
dark pinewood, and the gate of his Eden closed be- 
hind him. 

As he entered the dim shadowy wood, with its long 
pillared aisles roofed in with dense interlacing branches 
which winter never thinned, with its dark rust-col- 
oured carpet from which the November mists were 
rising like blue smoke, it oppressed him as with a 
sense of immeasurable loss and woe. The silence was 
like death; there was no rustle, nor stirring of life 
amongst the bracken; only the hush was enfolded 
with the long sound of the reverberating wave. He 
felt it intolerable, and, leaving the broad main alley, 
made his way out through the gnarled stunted pines 
that fringed the wood on the seaward side, to the 
edge of the cliff whence he could look down upon the 
breakers that came heaving in from the far horizon, 
and fell in one long line with a sound like thunder 
slowly travelling along the sand. 

Any one with an ear delicately attuned to every 
sound in nature as well as in music, may perhaps un- 
derstand how the deep reiterated rhythm soothed the 
trouble of his spirit. He himself could not have told 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 




how or why strength came into him while he listened. 
Perhaps it may have been the hint of ‘‘ Infinite passion, 
and the pain of finite hearts that yearn.’’ 

What was it that had come to him? Was it good? 
Was it evil? Was it heaven? Was it hell? Something 
it had of sharp agony, and something of a beauty be- 
yond all his dreaming. From the tomb of the simple 
natural human love that Em had stung to death, had 
arisen something mystical and strange that amazed 
him. He had never dreamed it was love, till to-day, 
when Chopin’s appealing passion had let loose a feel- 
ing that had broken into sudden flame. He had thought 
it was gratitude he had felt when her soft voice had 
brought him comfort, when she had touched him with 
a hand as cool as aspen leaves, though so tender. Yet 
even now it was not love as men count love; it had 
no personal wish or hope. It was 

The desire of the moth for the star, 

Of the night for the morrow. 

He recognised that there was in it an element of 
danger. The good gift of fire has its dangers. Yet if 
he could master his passion instead of being swept be- 
fore it, he would be the nobler man for having felt it. 

But for the present his sentence was banishment. 
She had willed it so, and he acquiesced. 


XXVII. 


Madame Rose Alba, as she now styled herself, had 
at length attained the summit of her ambition. She 
was about to appear on a London stage, not indeed 
in the leading role, but in a very good part — a part 
written expressly for her by the composer, Valen- 
tine Garcia. Her cup of pride was not, however, filled 
to the brim. She rather resented not being the chief 
character, though Garcia explained to her that not 
even his influence would induce any London manager 
to intrust the whole success of a new venture to such 
inexperienced hands. She had played flower-girls and 
bridesmaids and peasant maidens for months, and she 
fancied herself quite competent to hold the stage as 
heroine, enjoying the not uncommon conviction that 
her rendering would have been very superior to that 
which the house was applauding. 

Another cloud over her felicity was that it was only 
a matinee at which she was to appear, one of those 
affairs at which it is the fashion to try on a new 
composer or a new singer, before producing them to 
confront the serious criticism of a first night. Still 
she was aware that it had its importance, and on her 
afternoon’s success would depend her chance of ob- 
taining a permanent engagement, which had only 
been promised her provisionally. 

Not reputation only, but maintenance, depended on 
it, for her own money, over which she had assumed 

288 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


289 


entire control, was seriously diminished, as she had 
put most of it into one of Mrs. Temple-Smith’s won- 
derful undertakings, which was to pay a high interest 
and double its capital in no time, but in the meanwhile 
had ceased to pay at all. 

She had been looking forward to the event with the 
utmost eagerness; but now it had come, she found 
herself wishing it well over. Fate had not been kind 
to her. She had a cold, and the dressmaker had sent 
home her gown with something radically wrong with 
the cut of the skirt. Garcia lunched with her under 
the mistaken idea of keeping her up to the mark, but 
he was himself in such a condition of excitement and 
fuss that it got upon her nerves, and his exhortations 
to her to do this and avoid that and be sure and re- 
member the other, his appeals to her gratitude, his 
reminders that the success of his operetta largely de- 
pended on the interpretation of the performers, made 
her grow minute by minute more uneasy, more dis- 
trustful of herself. 

He had been very anxious to coach his heroine, Lotty 
Lister ; but that young woman, who had had consid- 
erable experience, declined to be dictated to. He had 
been present at every rehearsal, making suggestions 
and explaining his point of view and intentions at 
great length, till she lost patience. ‘‘ Now look here, 
Mr. Garcia,” she had said, do you want me to under- 
take the part and do the best I can with it? If you 
do you must let me alone. If you are to come ambling 
round with suggestions at every point, I shall simply 
chuck the whole thing.” Rose Alba, unluckily for her, 
was too dependent on Garcia’s favour to venture on 
a similar line of conduct. 


290 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


By the time the hansom deposited her and the com- 
poser at the stage door, she was dazed and trembling, 
hoarse and tired with practising as well as with talk- 
ing ; for not satisfied with having known her part 
perfectly at rehearsal, she had been foolish enough to 
spend the whole morning working it up. 

Mrs. Temple-Smith, who with Gage Orman had taken 
stalls in the very front, more on Garcia’s account than 
on that of her protegee, whom it must be confessed she 
was getting a little tired of, was, however, glad to avail 
herself of her intimacy with the latter to penetrate be- 
hind the scenes and pay her a visit in her dressing- 
room. She found her in the hands of a severe-look- 
ing dresser who was administering sal-volatile. 

What, Em! You taking to nerves! I would never 
have believed it of you. Gage and I have been pictur- 
ing you keeping up Val’s fainting courage and laugh- 
ing at him. You want some one to laugh at you. I 
wish I had brought Gage round ; she would soon have 
scoffed you into a more suitable frame of mind.” 

‘‘ He worried me so ! ” said Em indignantly, gulping 
down the sal-volatile and making a face. 

‘‘ Oh, he’s in an awful state of mind, poor dear ! He 
has gone to hide in the deepest recesses of the stage- 
box. I believe he is lying on the floor behind the 
fauteuils. Really, you know, the overture is going very 
well. Gracious! child, how your hand shakes ! You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself ” — as Em set down 
the glass on the marble-topped dressing-table with a 
clatter. 

I am not at all well,” she plained. “ I have caught 
a horrid cold, and I have been so worried about my 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


291 

gown! Did you ever see such a cut?’^ She stood 
back a little to display it. 

“ Upon my word, it is atrocious ! cried Portia, un- 
dertaking willingly the role of Job’s comforter. ‘‘ Why, 
on the stage the front will look half-way up to your 
knees, and it droops behind. Can’t you pin it or some- 
thing?” — to the dresser. 

There’s nothing to be done. Ma’am,” said the 
woman remorselessly. ‘‘ Madame Alba should go to 
a better place for her things. These cheap people are 
no good.” 

What shall I do? ” wailed Em, and two tears made 
tracks through the artistic roses of her cheeks. 

‘‘There now! Just see what you have done” — 
turning her round to the glass. “ Now I shall have 
to make your face all over again, and it is much if I 
get you finished in time.” 

“ Well, I shall go round to the front,” said Portia. 
“ I want to see the curtain go up. Keep up your 
spirits. Ta ta ! ” 

“Never mind. Alba; don’t cry, whatever you do, 
or perhaps you won’t be able to stop,” said the con- 
tralto who shared the dressing-room, and who was 
very busy pinning a huge bunch of roses into the 
bosom of her gown. “ One always feels a little funny 
at first, but it will go off ; and as to your frock — ^why, 
yours is a light comedy part, and people do wear their 
frocks very short for those. I wouldn’t worry.” 

Em’s tears were never very near the surface, and 
those which the anguish of disappointment at not look- 
ing her best had forced out, were disposed of before 
she had to go down-stairs in response to the call-bell. 
During the few minutes that elapsed before her cue. 


292 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


she was aware that the stage-manager was haranguing 
her, but of what he said she had not the faintest idea. 

Her cue arrived; some one gave her a little push, 
and she found herself walking unsteadily out into the 
open, and some one in front was trying to get up a 
little feeble applause. She had some sentences to 
speak before her song came, but her speaking voice 
never had sufficient weight and volume for a large 
space, and in her own ears it sounded thin and dead. 
It was a very full and a very smart house, but she was 
only aware of Mrs. Temple-Smith and Miss Orman, 
sitting in front, whispering together and shrugging 
their shoulders. They summarised for her the attitude 
of the whole audience, and she felt an angry im- 
potence, a sense of inadequacy, of powerlessness to 
impress her conception of herself upon them. 

For it was of herself, not of her part she was think- 
ing. Hers was a role to play up to others, but she was 
hardly aware that there were any others, except that 
they seemed to get in her way and thwart her. 

Then a voice from the gallery called out : Speak 
up, can’t you ! ” which so put her out that the words 
of her song went quite out of her head, and she had to 
sing nonsense till she could gather herself together 
again. When she went off she was greeted with re- 
proaches. 

‘‘ Madame Alba, I told you of the change of exit. 
What were you thinking of to come off this way? ” 

‘‘ You never told me a word of it,” she said angrily. 

'' I did ; the very last moment before you went on, 
that you might be sure not to forget.” 

Then the conductor : 

Madame Alba, this won’t do at all. You must 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


293 

put out more volume of voice. I am sure in the gal- 
lery you could hardly have been heard.’' 

I can’t help it. I have a dreadful cold. I am sure 
I filled the theatre perfectly well at rehearsal.” 

H’m ! I don’t know. It strikes me your voice 
is altogether too light for a full house. Well, we must 
do what we can for to-day. You must really exert 
yourself more and throw out your voice.” 

Last came Garcia: 

“ Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Rose, don’t jeopardise the 
whole thing ! I thought we were coming to utter grief 
in the prettiest scene of all, and it made me feel so ill.” 

She had nothing to do during the second act; in 
the third occurred her principal song. Her cold 
seemed to be getting worse every minute, and while 
she was on, taking silent part in the scene while the 
hero and heroine were getting through a long duet, 
the tickling in her throat became intolerable and she 
dared not cough. 

When she stood forward for the song that to her 
was the event of the afternoon, the conductor signed 
vigorously to her. More power,” she could read in ' 
the motion of his lips, and she resolved to exert her- 
self or perish in the attempt. No one who knew the 
sweet clear treble that belonged to her would have 
recognised for hers the ear-piercing shrieks that were 
striving to reach spaces beyond" her scope ; as to ex- 
pression, the sole expression was of the agonised re- 
solve to out-sing The hoarseness that was gaining mo- 
mentarily upon her. The last refrain ended with a 
trill and roulade that swept up to the high C that was 
her pride. She had made Valentine put it in expressly 
for her. She gathered up her forces and took a deep 


294 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


breath, but it went through her throat like a knife. 
She rushed at it despairingly, and it ended in a hoarse 
scream like the tearing of calico. 

Some one laughed. Then every one laughed. They 
did not hiss ; they were too kind for that : they sim- 
ply laughed. 

Em spent the evening sitting crouched upon the 
hearth-rug with her head leaning against the seat of a 
chair, while the realisation of all that the disaster 
meant came slowly home to her. Valentine Garcia 
and the librettist were giving a little dinner to cele- 
brate the event, and she had of course been bidden, 
but had excused herself curtly, almost rudely. Her 
cough was far too bad, she said, for her to think of 
going out again that night ; she must nurse. She had 
been looking forward to it as the triumphant crown 
to a triumphant day; her evening gown — not a fail- 
ure — was hanging ready in her wardrobe; but to go 
and be reproached — still worse to be pitied and ex- 
cused — was not to be thought of. 

For they had all been very kind to her ; but to her 
the cruellest sting of all lay in the knowledge that she 
had not wrecked the play. If like Samson she had felt 
herself crushed under the falling ruins of the house she 
had pulled down, her personal fiasco would not have 
loomed so large ; but the final scene, in which she bore 
no part, had gone with a dash that had carried the 
operetta into safe harbour. She herself had been swept 
out of the way like so much rubbish, while the rest 
had marched on to victory without her. At the con- 
clusion, the composer had been called for, and had 
had a regular ovation; Lottie Lister was half smoth- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


295 


ered under the mountain of bouquets that had been 
thrown to her ; only for her, not a call, not a flower — 
only a merciful oblivion. 

She had overheard Garcia, as she was trying to 
hurry away unobserved : 

‘‘Well done, Lottie! You pulled us through gal- 
lantly. I thought for a moment it was all up with us. 
If it had not been for you — 

Then Mrs. Temple-Smith had caught her before she 
had been able to make her escape : 

“ Never mind, my dear. After all you have not 
done much harm. Luckily your part was unessential. 
Do go home and take care of that horrid cold, or 
you will be laid up. Really you are not strong enough 
for this sort of thing. That little Lister is as strong 
as a horse.” 

No ; it had not signifled to anybody but herself, and 
nobody cared. 

She sat on, staring into the fire while the whole 
scope of the disaster gradually unfolded itself. 

It meant humiliation and the utter downfall of all 
her pride. It meant failure, entire and irretrievable. 
It was not likely that any manager would give her 
an engagement after so conspicuous a fiasco. 

It meant poverty. Whether she would ever see 
again any of that money she had so rashly invested, 
she could not tell ; for the present, at any rate, no in- 
terest was forthcoming. She had found giving lessons 
a very shifting and unlucrative business here where 
she was comparatively unknown, and had to compete 
with hundreds ready to undersell her; at Pinecliff, 
under her husband’s wing, it had been very different. 
She had thought to make an assured if not brilliant 


296 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


income once she could get the opportunity of being 
heard : now she had had her chance, and it had melted 
away in her hands. 

Last of all, she had a horrible misgiving that it 
meant the complete extinction of her voice. The sen- 
sation when it broke had been of such an extraordi- 
nary tearing that she felt sure something must have 
given way. When she thought of it, she sprang up 
and went to the piano, striking a few chords. The 
sound she uttered was hoarse, feeble, utterly beyond 
her control, and she threw herself down again with 
her head in the chair, and let the waves of despair rush 
over her. 

In all her prosperous self-satisfied little life, she had 
rarely known what it was to want to be comforted. 
Oh, if only Ethel had not been in India ! was her cry. 
Alice disapproved of her and would have nothing to 
do with her, and as to Bertha, she was in the north; 
and besides, no one ever went to Bertha to be moth- 
ered. She wished she could prevent hersdf recollect- 
ing how one day, cast down from her usual eminence 
by an intolerable fit of toothache, she had gone to 
Roger for consolation; how he had tried every heard- 
of and unheard-of remedy to give her ease, and, when 
all failed, had taken her into his arms and rocked her 
as he might have rocked Betty, with little foolish pet- 
ting words, and his tender touch had done more for 
her than all the laudanum and Bunter’s nervine. She 
found herself against her will murmuring over the 
words of one of her songs — a silly one she had always 
thought it ; she never cared for it : 

Oh that ’twere possible, after long grief and pain, 

To feel the arms of my true love round me once again! 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


297 


But she had murdered his love : it must have been 
so, or he could never have stayed away from her 
through all this long year. 

Late that night the landlady was roused by the 
vehement, terrified pealing of Madame Alba’s bell, and 
rushed down to find that she had broken a blood- 
vessel and thought she was going to die. The doctor, 
of course, was summoned in all haste, but he made 
very light of it. It was only in the throat; nothing 
serious — probably from a strain. She must keep quiet 
and give herself rest. ‘‘ Sing? ” in answer to her 
agonised query, '' oh, well, certainly not before the 
summer.” 


XXVIIL 


From one point of view the illness might have been 
considered fortunate for Rose Alba. Garcia took care 
that it was made the most of in the papers, and it went 
some way to excuse her failure; but on its practical 
side it was an awkward fact. There were the inevitable 
expenses for doctor and delicacies, and there was the 
unavoidable idleness. For weeks it was impossible 
for her to go out of doors, and the money was rapidly 
melting away, while there was no more coming in, 
and very little prospect of any more in the future. What 
could she do? Write to Roger? Never! If she had 
only not lost that wretched money, she felt almost 
ready to go to him and say : I have made a mistake ; 
I am very lonely and miserable. Take me back.’’ But 
to have to say: ‘‘ I have failed. I am poor; I cannot 
keep myself. Take pity on me,” was a thing she could 
never bend her pride to. She would starve sooner. 

The first day she was able to get out she went to 
consult Mrs. Temple-Smith, but not very hopefully; 
for she was acutely conscious that Portia did not care 
for failures. As she had expected, that much-occu- 
pied lady was too busy to give her more than a few 
minutes of her valuable time; she hastily scribbled 
down for her two or three addresses of offices where 
she might possibly hear of typewriting or secretarial 
work of some kind, but unluckily Em had had too little 
practice to be very rapid with the machine. For her- 
self, Mrs. Temple-Smith declared that she had just 

. 298 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


299 


now more helpers than she had work for. '' You see, 
my dear,’’ she said, it is no use in the world for me to 
employ people that I have to show how to do things; 
it is quicker to do them oneself. Come and have lunch 
with me one day the end of next week, will you? This 
week I am full up every day.’' 

Portia’s conscience was, however, not quite easy on 
the subject; but she had an ingenious method of shift- 
ing her responsibilities on to other people’s shoulders, 
whereby she eased her own mind and kept her friends 
usefully employed: so she shuffled off the burden of 
Em on to Valentine Garcia the next time she saw him, 
and thought she had done well. 

Val,” she said, I wish you would go and look 
after little Mrs. Redway for me. The child has been 
quite ill since her fiasco, and the doctor says she is not 
to use her voice at present. Of course she cannot give 
singing lessons without; so what she is going to do, 
I’^m sure I don’t know. Just now I really have not 
time to be bothered. We have Charlotte Croucher 
coming over to lecture on ‘ The Soul made Visible,’ 
and Gage and I have all the arrangements to make.” 

Valentine did not care at all about the soul made 
visible. He leaned back and laughed a little. Oh, 
I’ll go and look up the little Rose,” he said, ‘‘ and see 
what is to be done for her.” 

He thought he was very magnanimous, but he could 
afford it: for his operetta was drawing good houses, 
with a charming little American soprano in poor Rose 
Alba’s part. 

“ Is it the old rooms in Gloucester Road? ” he asked, 
“or did I hear she had moved?” 

“ Oh, dear, yes ; those are far too expensive for her 


300 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


now ; she is rather down on her luck altogether. She 
has gone to a top floor in Binfield Gardens. I wager 
you don’t know where that is.” 

‘‘ Poor little girl ! ” said Garcia. ‘‘ A singing bird 
without a voice is rather a drug in the market, Pm 
afraid.” 

He found his way to Binfield Gardens before long, 
in the dusk of a cold afternoon, and Em thought him 
very kind. 

Oh, don’t worry about it,” he said, in answer to 
some faltering reference on her part to '' that horrible 
afternoon.” ‘‘ After all there was not much harm 
done; the thing is fairly floated now, and getting a 
capital good run.” 

Not much harm done ! ” From his point of view, 
perhaps not. How selfish men were! 

He looked round the room with its dingy carpet and 
cheap trumpery ornaments, and the tawdry glass vases 
on the mantelpiece did more than anything else to 
bring the fact home to him that Em was the person 
to be pitied. His eye came back to her as she sat 
near him, pathetic and drooping, with all the starch 
taken out of her. 

'' It has been awfully rough on you, poor little girl,” 
he said, drawing his chair a little closer, '' and I don’t 
quite see what is to be done. I did my best for you, 
didn’t I?” 

Oh, yes, I know you did. It was just the horrible 
ill luck of my catching cold just then. I don’t know 
what I am to do, I’m sure.” Her voice choked a 
little and her eyes brimmed up. She pitied herself so 
intensely, and she was pulled down by her illness. She 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


301 

always used to so despise women who cried ; but one 
tear escaped and dropped into her lap. 

Oh, don’t cry, dear,” he said ; it quite upsets me. 
We shall think of something for you presently. If you 
are hard up, I can help you. I am pretty flush myself 
just now.” 

Emmie drew back and crimsoned. Oh, you are 
very kind, but I could not think of it, thanks. If only 
I could find something to do ! ” 

‘‘ What can you do, you see ? That is the question.” 

I suppose I must look out for a situation as com- 
panion or housekeeper or something.” 

He looked at her sideways, and smiled to himself. 

By and by, when the warm weather comes, I am 
going to start a house-boat on the river, and have little 
Saturday to Monday parties. Suppose you come 
and keep house for me.” 

Em looked startled. “ Oh, I don’t think I could do 
that,” she said. 

He shrugged his shoulders and laughed a little. 

Well, there is no occasion to be offended. It is rather 
late in the day, it strikes me, to put on virtuous airs. 
I understood you had broken with all those outworn 
conventions, and gone in for complete independence. 
I suppose I was a little sudden. You come and have 
supper with me to-night after the play, and we’ll talk 
it over.” 

Em sprang to her feet, and her eyes blazed. Once 
she understood, there were no bounds to her indigna- 
tion, and Valentine beat a rapid retreat, half angry, 
half amused, and wholly incredulous of her honesty of 
purpose. 

But in this she was wholly honest. Such overtures 


302 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


were abhorrent to her whole nature. Rebellious 
against her husband she might be, unfaithful never. 
The very defects of her character, her coldness, her 
self-absorption, helped her here. No feeling warmer 
than flattered vanity had ever moved her in regard to 
Valentine Garcia. What had happened gave her, more 
than any of her misfortunes had yet done, a sense of 
isolation, of being exposed defenceless to — she hardly 
knew what. She felt like a child who has rushed for- 
bidden into danger, and finds itself forsaken, solitary, 
panic-struck. 

She was still pacing about the room, her cheeks 
burning, when she heard another visitor mounting the 
stairs. Her impulse was to rush and intercept the 
servant with a Not at home ’’ ; but she was too late. 
The door opened, and Lady Gilderdale stood on the 
threshold. 

‘'May I come in?’’ she said. “Your servant told 
me I should find you.” 

For the maid-of-all-work considered that to show 
visitors up to the top story was quite outside of her 
functions. Emmie tried to collect herself, as she 
hastily pushed into their places the chairs which her 
passionate tramp about the room had sent in all direc- 
tions. The lack of welcome in face and voice was, 
however, apparent, and Lady Gilderdale put out her 
hand. 

“ Don’t trouble,” she said. “ I am not going to stay. 
I see this is an untimely visit. I ought to have 
sent up my name. I know it is very late, but I met 
my cousin at an ‘ at home ’ at Fusain Lacroix’s studio, 
and she told me how ill you had been, so I drove 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


303 

straight on ; but I will come another day. No, don’t 
come down with me. I can find my own way.” 

Oh,” said Emmie, it is only that I am rather in 
disorder. I — I have been rehearsing a scene in a play. 
Please come in, if you will excuse an untidy room.” 

‘‘Rehearsing? You are able to go on the stage 
then? I feared from what Mrs. Temple-Smith said — ” 

“ Oh, only for my own amusement — “ with a little 
short, hard laugh — “ I have no voice now.” 

“ And you are tired, and ought to rest. Better let 
me come and see you at a more convenient time. I 
assure you I shall not think it rude.” 

Emmie was divided between resentment at being 
taken at a disadvantage by this woman whose serene 
beauty always made her envious, and another feeling 
that she would not recognise; Lady Gilderdale came 
from Pinecliff, and towards Pinecliff, something that 
would not be silenced was stretching out longing 
hands. The unacknowledged feeling gained the day. 
She shut the door and pushed round towards the fire 
the most comfortable chair the room afforded for her 
visitor. Judith took it and began to loosen the sable 
at her throat, while her hostess tried to rearrange the 
fire, with shaking hands that made the fire-irons clatter 
noisily. 

The ordinary morning-call talk did not come easily. 
The two, such utter strangers and so aloof in the out- 
ward circumstances of their lives, had come too close 
on their last interview. Jtidith looked up after a mo- 
ment. “ How is Betty? ” she said. 

“ Oh, poor little soul, she isn’t very well. I don’t 
think London agrees with her. Would you care to 


304 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


see her? I put her to bed very early this evening, but 
I don’t think she is asleep. I heard her just now.” 

She went into the back room, and returned in a mo- 
ment with Betty, wide awake and perky as ever, in a 
little pink flannelette nightgown. Judith held out her 
arms, and whether it was the motherly touch or the 
soft feel of the sable, Betty, who usually hotly resented 
strangers, sat on her lap quite contentedly. Her 
mother knelt on the floor and turned up the night- 
gown to show the little thin legs. 

'' There ! did you ever see such spindle-shanks for 
nearly three years old ? ” she said. “ I declare I am 
quite ashamed of her.” 

■ Poor wee mite ! I don’t think London is very 
good for such little folks, and I dare say since you 
have been ill, you have not been able to give her much 
fresh air.” 

No, she has really been horribly neglected. I had 
to part with her maid; I could not afford a servant in 
lodgings. Do you know, I think I shall send her 
back.” 

Judith looked at her. ‘'Not send her; take her, 
you mean. Don’t you think it is time you both went 
home? ” 

Emmie rose from the floor and began to poke the 
fire again. 

“ Oh, there are a good many reasons why it is im- 
possible for me to think of going back to Pinecliff at 
present. I think I shall pack Betty in a basket like a 
kitten — she isn’t much bigger than one — and send her 
by rail. I suppose he would take her in,” she added 
with a sort of half laugh. 

Lady Gilderdale leaned forward and looked 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


305 

earnestly into her face. Tell me: is there any real 
reason you should not go back?^’ 

'' What do you mean by a real reason ? 

I think you know what I mean. You have done 
nothing for which you cannot ask your husband to for- 
give you? 

Emmie paced about the room. Nothing, noth- 
ing! ’’ she cried. But I cannot go back as a sup- 
pliant, a failure. I would beg my bread, I would 
starve sooner.’" ‘ 

'‘Then it is only pride that keeps you away! Oh, 
my dear, don’t let a miserable rag of pride wreck your 
life and his. Verily I am afraid if you don’t go back 
now you never will.” 

" But do you think he wants me — now?” She had 
come back and crouched down again on the hearth- 
rug, staring into the glowing coals. 

" I think he needs you. It is not good for a man to 
be alone.” 

There was silence for a minute, while Emmie pon- 
dered whether the change of phrase were accidental, 
and dared not ask. 

" Have you seen him lately? ” she inquired pres- 
ently. 

" Not very lately; not since November. We have 
been away, you know.” 

" You mean it very kindly, and I dare say you think 
our difference is a thing that might be patched up or 
got over somehow; but you don’t in the least under- 
stand the position,” said Emmie, seating herself in a 
chair and trying to resume a more ordinary manner. 
" Why, positively, I don’t even know his address.” 

" He has never written to you? ” 


3o6 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


Never once. You see he has cut me off as com- 
pletely as if I had never belonged to him. And I used 
to think he cared so much for me!’' she added low, 
almost to herself. 

Judith lifted her head, which she was bending over 
the child. 

'' And you could trade upon that knowledge to treat 
him as you did! ” 

Emmie made a restless movement. She was not 
accustomed to have her conduct held up before her 
own eyes, save in Mrs. Temple-Smith’s distorted per- 
spective. True, her sister Alice had told her what she 
thought of her, but she had never been used to heed 
Alice’s opinions. She flushed up. 

I did what I thought right,” she said. '' Every 
human being owes a certain duty to himself — or her- 
self.” 

Plainly, Mrs. Redway, I don’t understand your 
new gospel; I don’t believe in it. Surely these in- 
sistent selves of ours get enough without our delib- 
erately setting them up on a pedestal for bur own 
worship. Do you remember the story of Galahad and 
the ' siege perilous ’ ? ‘ If I lose myself, I find myself.’ 
Probably the development you think so much about 
would have come to you through the very circum- 
stances you chafed against.” 

You don’t understand,” cried Emmie impatiently. 

I wanted to be myself. I was sick of being some- 
body else’s shadow.” 

All the same,” said Judith, I doubt if you would 
have been any better satisfied that your husband 
should be yours. If you would, you are very unlike 
most women.” 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


307 


Of course I did not want that. I should have 
despised him. But it is time men were taught that 
we are quite as valuable and important as they are. 
If marriage is to continue, it must be as an equal part- 
nership of mind with mind.’^ 

My dear Mrs. Redway, we have not waited for 
the nineteenth century to reveal to us the high ideal 
of the marriage of true minds — of the perfect friend- 
ship, comradeship, which is possible in that relation; 
but it does not often come ready made: it has to be 
lived up to by slow degrees. God gave you a very 
precious gift, and it lay in your hand to work the 
highest with it; but because it was not faultless, you 
chose rather to break it and throw it away. If you 
are wise, you will pray Him to let you have another 
chance.'’ 

“ And you would have one go back to the old des- 
picable ideal of ‘ Patient Grizzel ' ? " murmured 
Emmie. 

Judith smiled a little. ‘‘By no means; she is a 
lady I never had any admiration for. It is not for 
any one to dictate how much of yielding there should 
be on the one side or the other; but I would just ask 
you: did you ever hear any duet in which both in- 
struments played the same melody at the same time, 
or in which one had not a subordinate part? In mu- 
sic, at any rate, the idea of equality is an impossible 
one." 

“ After all," said Emmie wearily, “ what is the use 
of discussion? I shall never go back now; it is far 
too late. If he had wished it, he would not have let 
me alone all these months. But I should like," she 


3o8 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


added, to know where he is, because of sending 
Baby/’ 

Do you really mean to send her? Could you part 
with her? ” 

Two sudden tears brimmed over. Oh, I must! 
I promised I would not let any harm come to her, and 
I cannot take proper care of her now.” 

I shall be going home myself next Tuesday. If 
you cannot make up your mind to take her yourself, 
which would be by far the best plan, I will take her. 
But you shall have the address. To think of your 
not knowing ! He has been living nearly a year with 
Signor Ercolani and his sister in St. Regulus Terrace. 
You know he let the house? ” 

Yes, I know; I saw it in the paper. Of course I 
could have found out where he was, only I would not; 
I did not care.” 

Judith stood up. I must go now. Oh, my dear, 
don’t be proud and hard to him if — ” She did not 
finish her sentence, but stooped and kissed Emmie as 
she put Betty back into her arms. 

Going home, she lay back in the corner of the car- 
riage, with a soul weariness upon her that was like 
bodily exhaustion. '' Did I do right? ” she asked her- 
self. Did I say all that might be said, and not too 
much? Will it come right, and will he be happy?” 
But she knew that there w^as one thing that mattered 
more than his happiness. 


XXIX. 


The morning was wet and cold. Even Pinecliff 
was drowned in rain, and pierced through with .icy 
blasts. Ercolani, attended by the faithful Marta, was 
in his narrow front hall, suffering himself to be in- 
ducted into a greatcoat and wound up in many com- 
forters, when the telegraph-boy handed in a yellow 
envelope for Redway. Telegrams were of frequent 
occurrence in that house, and neither felt any par- 
ticular curiosity till a voice from the back room called 

John ’’ in a rather agitated tone, and Giovanni went 
in. 

‘^What is it?’’ he asked. 

I must go up to town to-day. I have just had 
a wire to tell me my wife is ill ; I must go up and see 
for myself. Could you get hold of a messenger, do 
you think ? I must send and put off my work.” 

‘^All right; I’ll see to it. Don’t you worry. You 
give me your book, and I will write for you.” 

You’re a good old sort,” said Roger gratefully. 

Then I’ll be off.” He was hastily turning over Brad- 
shaw as he spoke. 

^‘Nothing serious, I hope?” For the fingers that 
fluttered the leaves shook. 

No, I don’t think so. It only says — ^ far from 
well.’ ” 

The message was from Lady Gilderdale, and ran: 

Have seen E. to-day, at 93 Binfield Gardens. Very 
far from well. Think you should go up.” 

309 


310 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


He put it in his pocket. Look here/’ he said, if 
I should find her willing to come home, could I bring 
her here? Would the Signorina mind?” 

"" Of course not; Fll answer for that. Marta loves 
a little sick-nursing. Don’t scruple.” 

''Thanks, awfully! But no — I don’t think I will. 
We’ll get rooms if necessary.” 

" But why?” 

"Why, there’s the kid, you see; a child in the 
house would ! e an awful nuisance.” 

" My dear fellow, were you thinking of me? Don’t 
you fancy it would hurt me to have her; it would do 
me good. Now off with you, or you’ll miss your 
train.” 

When the cab from Waterloo Station deposited 
Roger at the gate of 93 Binfield Gardens it was still 
pouring ; that unutterably cold, dirty London rain 
that makes one wonder that so many intelligent hu- 
man beings should select such a place of abode. The 
streets were pea-soup, and the very skies seemed mud, 
and a chill, heavy depression lay over the river like a 
pall. 

As Roger let the dripping, rusty gate clang behind 
him, and ran up the sodden strip of gravel, he re- 
membered how he had once before tried to call upon 
his wife, and saw in his mind’s eye the yellow and red 
dahlias in front of Rose Villa in the October sunshine. 
Binfield Gardens might be poverty-stricken, but there 
was nothing Bohemian about them; even in desola- 
tion they were eminently respectable, actually going 
the length of standing modestly back in what might 
be called by courtesy a front garden, adorned with a 
sooty plane-tree and two half-dead laurels, trimmed 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


31I 


round, too, with a remnant of worn-out box-edging. 
It was one of those streets that began by being sub- 
urban with a flavour of the country, but have got 
swallowed up in the march of Kensington westward, 
and the little houses, till they are demolished to make 
way for flats, drag out a precarious existence as lodg- 
ings, or display the cards of milliners in a small way of 
business. One could predicate the inhabitants exactly, 
from a view of the outside. There was undoubtedly a 
permanent gentleman in the dining-room, a dressmaker 
in the drawing-room, and a music-mistress manquee on 
the top floor. Poor Em! So this had been the end 
o^* her ambitious flight! 

Highly respectable, too, was the person who pres- 
ently answered the bell: the mistress of the house, 
presumably, to judge by her brown merino gown and 
cameo brooch. 

‘‘ Madame Alba is not at home,’’ she said, and pre- 
pared to shut the door. 

‘‘ Not at home? You mean she is not seeing any- 
body? ” 

'' I mean what I say, sir.” 

But I understood that Madame Alba was ill.” 

She has been ill, sir, and she ought not to be out 
in such weather. I told her so, but she had business 
and she went.” 

‘‘What time do you expect her back?” 

“ I could not say, sir, I am sure. She did not leave 
word.” 

“ Very well. I’ll come in and wait for her.” 

The expression of Miss Wragge’s whole spare per- 
son, as she planted herself squarely in the doorway, 


312 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


said: Will you? But her reply in words was: Do 
you wish to leave a card or a message? 

Redway took out one of his professional cards, 
judging that, since Em had been trying to get musical 
employment, that would serve him best. He did not 
quite want to say he was her husband, since she had 
chosen to pass under another name. Miss Wragge 
perused it attentively and eyed him from head to foot. 

Did you call in answer to Madame’s advertise- 
ment?’^ she asked. 

I came in answer to a telegram I received at Pine- 
cliff this morning. I am only in town for a few hours, 
and in this out-of-the-way part it is extremely incon- 
venient to me to have to go away and come again 
later.” 

'' And in such weather too,” said Miss Wragge, re- 
lenting. Very well, sir, step this way, please.” And 
she preceded him up three flights of stairs, whereof 
the carpet grew shabbier and shabbier at each re- 
move. 

Is the little girl here ? ” he asked, as he followed 
her into the room. She wondered that a strong-look- 
ing young man should seem so out of breath. 

‘‘ She is down-stairs in the basement, sir, playing 
with the cat. Her mamma asked me to mind her 
this afternoon, as it was too wet for her to go out.” 

Oh, bring her up ! ” he said impatiently, as he 
went to the window and pulled up the blind with a 
jerk. 

While the woman was gone, he looked round. 
What a contrast to the smart, luxurious rooms, gay 
with chrysanthemums, where he had seen Emmie last ! 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


313 

And she so loved luxury and pretty things ! Poor 
little soul! 

'' She is very shy with strangers, sir,’^ said a voice 
in the doorway. There, go and say how-de-do to the 
gentleman, pretty; there’s a love! ” 

Miss Wragge had not taken the trouble to make 
Betty any toilet. She stood there with touzled hair 
over her eyes, in a scarlet frock and a very dirty pina- 
fore: for she had been cuddling the cat, who came 
off smutty upon everything ; indeed she had him now, 
clasped tight round the waist, while with the other 
hand she held on to a fold of Miss Wragge’s gown. 
Roger was careful not to startle her. He stooped to 
her level without coming too close, and held out his 
hands to her. 

Will you come,” he said, my Betty? ” 

Betty looked a minute : then away went puss, she 
dropped the protecting gown, and in an unsteady 
toddle cast herself into his arm’s with a delighted 
gurgle : '' Dadda, Dadda ! ” 

Why, she knows me!” he cried with dewy eyes, 
as he lifted her up. To think of it, after all this time, 
and such a mite as she is ! ” 

He turned his back on Miss Wragge, and walked 
to the window murmuring tendernesses into the baby’s 
ear. 

'' I need not keep you,” he said presently over his 
shoulder, finding the good woman still lingering. 
The child will be all right with me.” 

Miss Wragge cleared her throat. '' Excuse me, sir,” 
she said ; I understood Madame Alba was a widow.” 

A widow ! What do you mean? ” Then catching 
sight of her scandalised countenance he broke into a 


314 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


short laugh. I am not underground yet, thank you. 
You do not seem to be aware that Alba is merely my 
wife’s professional name. My work is at Pinecliff, 
and it suited Mrs. Redway to be in town for a time.” 

Miss Wragge murmured an indistinct apology and 
withdrew. 

The afternoon wore on slowly, though Betty did her 
best to entertain him. She fetched her Sunday pic- 
ture-book out of the cupboard, and explained all the 
pictures to him. Then she told him a long tale about 
the lions and tigers she had seen at the Zoo, mixed 
with giants and dwarfs out of her own queer little 
head. Then they had a ride to Banbury Cross and 
other exciting pastimes of that nature, till, as the dusk 
drew on, she got sleepy and nestled down into the 
hollow of his arm for a nap. 

Would Emmie never come! The memory of those 
long days of seeking and waiting and never finding 
came back on him, and he lived them through again: 
for it was too dark now to do anything; besides, he 
would not stir, lest he should wake the child. 

At last a voice on the stairs, coming up — a fretful, 
tired voice. 

‘'Oh, Miss Wragge, I have had such a day of it! 
I thought I should never get back; and then I got 
into the wrong omnibus and had to walk ever so far, 
and it was all in vain after all. I am wet through and 
tired out. Do let me have some tea soon. What did 
you say? A gentleman? Oh, you know I said you 
were never to let that man in again. What, a different 
gentleman ? Oh, perhaps he has something for me to 
do.” 

“ I was that flustered,” said Miss Wragge after- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


31S 


wards, detailing the circumstances to a friend, ‘‘ that 
tell her it was her husband, I simply couldn't. I let 
her go up." 

Next moment she was in the room, and saw in the 
dusky firelight a man rising from a chair and gently 
putting Betty off his knee. She could not see his face, 
but she knew who it was. And then Miss Wragge 
brought in the lamp and set it on the table; and as 
the light fell on him, she felt it was the same, yet an- 
other, an older, different Roger from the one she re- 
membered; and she was afraid. 

''Oh, is it you?" she said. And then they both 
waited a moment till the woman should be gone. 
Emmie stood, in the pitiless glare of the lamp, in a 
waterproof and an old hat, trying to unbutton shabby 
gloves with fingers that shook. The instant that the 
door was shut, he came to her and took her hand, 
bending over her. 

" My poor little girl ! " he said. " Why didn't you 
write to me? " 

The face, the manner, might seem for a moment 
strange, but the voice, with its familiar intonation, with 
the little personal trick of speech she remembered so 
well, went home to her. Just at first she tried to draw 
away, to struggle against the impulse to yield, but she 
was tired out with battling. With a quick movement 
she turned to him, and, hiding her face against his 
coat, began to sob. He had never seen Em cry before; 
he would have said he did not believe she could, and 
it moved him strangely. He put his arm round her, 
and with his other hand took off her wet hat and 
stroked her ruffled head. 

" You poor little girl ! " he repeated. " There, don’t 


3i6 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


cry. I have come to take care of you, and you need 
not bother about anything.’’ 

He made her sit down by the fire, and knelt beside 
her, making her lean against him. Emmie wept on, 
enjoying for the first time in her life what most women 
know very well, the luxury of an utter surrender. 
Betty, who had recaptured the cat and been amusing 
herself with it, came out of her corner and regarded 
her mother with astonished disapproval. Naughty ! ” 
she said; mustn’t k’y.” Her father signed her away ; 
Betty was de trop just then. 

Presently Em lifted her head from his shoulder. 

Oh, Dodge, I have been very horrid to you,” she 
said. Have you really forgiven me? ” 

He looked into the fire, not at her. “ Don’t remind 
me of that now. I can’t go back. Let it be enough 
that you are coming home with me.” 

She did not in the least understand him. She raised 
her head, and tried to look into the dark eyes in which 
there was a new reserve, then let her head sink back 
upon his shoulder. He was going to take her home, 
and for the present that was enough. 

After a silent minute or two he got up. The first 
thing,” he said, is to get you dry. Here, stand up 
and let me get that wet cloak off. Shall I find some 
slippers in the next room?” 

He busied himself waiting upon her, took off her 
wet boots and warmed her little shoes. As he held 
them to the fire, a curious impersonal memory came to 
him of a man who had snatched up a little rubbed shoe 
just like this and held it an instant as though it had 
been a precious jewel, and then flung it away like a 
poison. Then the maid came in with the parapher- 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


317 


nalia for high tea, and he went over to the window 
where the blind had not yet been drawn down, and 
stood looking out — looking into the invisible night, 
rather: for the reflection of firelight and lamplight 
made all outside a blackness. 

Emmie lay back in the low chair where he had put 
her, and felt that the denouement of her story had 
come. She had been wilful and rebellious, she ac- 
knowledged that, and had courted disaster; and then 
in the crisis of her troubles, when she felt she could 
bear no more, had come the husband whose love she 
had slighted, ready to take her home, and all would 
be well. She felt as the children say : quite good 
now.’’ 

To him it was not so simple. In the novels and 
plays, after misunderstanding and estrangement, 
comes the moment when. Hey presto ! all is changed ; 
the husband and wife rush into each other’s arms and 
live happy ever after. But if this were the moment, 
he was not ready. The experiences of the past year 
had bit too deep. He felt that he and Em were still 
standing each side of the chasm that had opened be- 
ween them, and which had gone on widening through 
this long year. It might in time be bridged over ; he 
honestly meant to try, but to ignore the past and pick 
up his life again at the moment when Em had been 
singing of red poppies — it was impossible. He meant 
to begin afresh, but it must be a fresh beginning; it 
could never be the old again. 

He came to the table when the servant had un- 
covered the chops and withdrawn, with his plan made. 

It is not raining now,” he said. I don’t believe 
it would do you a bit of harm to take the journey to- 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


318 

night. We could catch the mail train. I don’t want 
to leave you and have to come up again.” 

He expected opposition, but for the moment Em 
had completely surrendered herself into his hands. 
She only said : ‘‘ Oh, but Dodge, my packing ! ” 

You will have nearly an hour. I will do it for you 
as soon as we have fed.” 

She rather liked the suddenness; there was some- 
thing dramatic about it. 

Where are you going to take me ? ” she asked with 
the curiosity of a child. 

Oh, for the present to Ercolani’s, where I am liv- 
ing. I shall send him a wire before we start. Luckily 
my tenants get out in about ten days, so we can take 
possession. I was in treaty with some others, but we 
can break that off.” He stopped and went into a muse, 
remembering how he had taken Em there in the first 
days of their marriage. He wondered if she thought 
of it too, and how it looked to her. 

For her all seemed strange and dreamlike. She lay 
upon her bed and watched him while he packed her 
things and Betty’s with a certain swift decision that 
made her reconsider Mrs. Temple-Smith’s favourite 
maxims about the general incapacity and fecklessness 
of men. It seemed still a dream when the cab was at 
the door, and she was wishing the astonished Miss 
Wragge good-bye. Then followed a confusion of lug- 
gage and porters at Waterloo, and she was in the ex- 
press, spinning through the black night with Roger 
opposite to her and Betty on her lap. 

She was too tired to think connectedly; through 
most of the journey she dozed, but at one moment 
she started broad awake, stung by a sudden thought. 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


319 


a sudden perception, that came to her as such things 
have a strange way of doing, just as she was losing 
consciousness in sleep. Roger had never kissed her. 
He had put his arm round her, had let her lean against 
him, had touched her with a tender pitying hand, but 
his lips had never sought hers. She shivered and 
stirred. In a moment he roused and bent forward 
from his corner. 

'' What is it? '' he said. '' Here, let me take Betty; 
she is too heavy for you. What is the matter? Are 
you feeling bad ? 

No, no; only I wish I had not come. How foolish 
I was to let you bring me away all on a sudden like 
this without — without anything. I was so dazed I 
don’t think I knew what I was doing.” 

'' Don’t, dear,” he said, speaking very low, for there 
were others at the further end of the carriage. You 
must not look back now.” 

He sighed heavily as he rolled Betty more warmly 
in a rug and settled her on his knee. He wondered 
what it meant. Was she looking back with regret to 
somebody in that other life of hers of which he knew 
nothing? It seemed to him that reconciliation was a 
very difficult business. 

It was not much like a home-coming to Emmie. 
The strange house in which she had rarely set foot, 
the way they welcomed Roger and fussed with him and 
seemed to set her aside, all chilled and discouraged her; 
and when presently she found herself handed over to 
the Signorina and her tisanes, she felt almost more 
abandoned than when she lay with her head on a chair 
and bewailed her failure. She had yet to learn how 
hard it is to turn back. 


XXX. 


They had been back in their own house a week or 
two. Roger had rather hurried their return, for he 
found the combined household did not answer. He 
had thought it would be good for his wife, till she 
was stronger, to be saved the trouble of housekeep- 
ing and the inevitable bothers of a move; but he soon 
saw there was friction, and it would not do. Emmie 
and the Signorina were not very harmonious, and, 
what was odder, Emmie seemed to have conceived 
an intense dislike to John. The only two perfectly 
happy in the arrangement, were John himself, and 
Betty, who struck up a very decided flirtation. Marta 
had at first watched anxiously, and tried to keep the 
baby out of her brother’s way, fearing the effect of 
the little chirping voice, the pattering feet about the 
house; but when she saw the smile on his face as he 
sat with Betty on his knee, making orange pigs for 
her, she let them be. 

I am terribly sorry to lose you. Dodge,” said 
Giovanni on the last evening. I shall miss you more 
than I can say; but you are quite right to go. I can 
see your life will never pull straight till you and she 
are in your own home by yourselves.” 

One night Roger was standing out on his doorstep, 
getting a breath of fresh air and finishing a pipe be- 
fore locking up for the night. Some one turned in 
at the gate and blundered straight into the laurel 
bushes. He ran down and took him by the arm. 


320 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


321 


Hullo, Knowles ! Is it you ? 

How abominably badly lighted these side roads 
are,’’ said the visitor irritably; it is a perfect scandal. 
You don’t mind a late visit, I hope. I wanted to see 
you rather particularly, and there is no catching you 
by day.” 

Come in ! ” Redway led the way to the dining- 
room, where a little fire still lingered. The wife is 
gone to bed,” he remarked, so if you want to talk 
business we shall be quite undisturbed.” 

He wondered much what Knowles could want with 
him, for though there had been amity between them 
for some time, the old friendly relations had never 
been resumed. 

Knowles followed him into the room, stumbling 
over a chair and groping with his hand till he came 
to an anchor. 

The matter I came about is this,” he began in his 
characteristic abrupt manner. I used to think once 
you had a desire to stand in my shoes ; do you wish it 
still?” 

Roger stared at him. '' I don’t understand. You 
don’t suppose that I — ” 

''No, no; but in truth you are the only fellow in 
Christendom I could endure to see there, and I can 
get you the appointment if you choose to have it.” 

Redway was still silent. He did not understand 
what it meant. 

" If you don’t take it,” went on the other, " my 
work — our work will all go to pieces. I can see just 
how it will be.” 

" Why, what is going to happen to you? ” 

Knowles leant his head against the side of the man- 


322 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


telpiece and groaned. Oh, don’t you know ?” he 
said. Haven’t the fellows told you? ” 

Of course I know — ^John told me — that you had 
been having trouble with your eyes ; but surely, surely 
you are making too much of it. You always did look 
on the black side, you know.” 

My sight is getting steadily dimmer day by day, 
and I fear the worst.” 

Roger came over to him and laid a hand on his 
shoulder. 

Have you forgotten,” he said, how ten years 
ago you were in such an awful funk about your 
lungs? And look what a splendid time you have had 
since — ^what a splendid work you have achieved. Keep 
up your heart.” 

“ Ah, it was death I was trying to face then ; but 
darkness is worse than death.” 

‘‘ Have you had the best advice? Phillippe de 
Brosse was saying he wondered you did not go to 
Pagenstecher; you know he is supposed to work 
miracles.” 

‘‘ If I do, none the less I must give up my appoint- 
ment. Alas! as you know, I could never get a score 
by heart. So I must resign. The point is this: If I 
do, will you take my post? ” 

I can’t tell you what it is to me that you should 
wish it; but you can understand it is not a thing one 
can answer out of hand. It must be thought over. 
What about Dacre? He’ll expect it.” 

Of course he will ; but oh. Dodge, I cannot — I 
cannot leave it to him ! ” 

He is a very good musician.” 

Oh, I know, but that is not all. I was an ass 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


323 


when I tried to put him over your head. His ear and 
taste are as good, I suppose, as yours or mine, but as 
to leading — you know yourself he doesn’t lead; and 
when it comes to conducting, the band conduct him.” 

Roger smiled. ‘‘ I know. It is some element of 
personal force that is lacking, I imagine. But he’ll 
be hurt, to be superseded.” 

Less by you than by any one. You have made 
yourself a power. Oh, Dodge, why did I ever lose 
you? Why was I such a fool?” 

It had to come. I was a bad subordinate, I think.” 

I look ahead,” went on Knowles, and I see my 
work that I have loved, all crumbling away. He’ll 
go off with a flourish, and then presently he will lose 
the best men because they will not be commanded by 
a weaker man than themselves, and he will think to 
conomise and please the council by filling their places 
with cheap, showy men; and he’ll take everybody’s 
advice, and let the frivolous element encroach more 
and more till it gets down to the level of a variety 
entertainment. It will pay — oh, no doubt it will pay, 
and I dare say he will be accounted a more successful 
director than I have been; but my work — ^where will 
it be?” 

It is a big thing, Graham ; you must give me 
time.” 

I can’t give you very long. It is rumoured about 
already that I shall have to resign, and Dacre may 
go to the council and secure a promise.” 

For a few minutes there was silence, while Redway 
revolved the matter and tried to look fairly at all its 
bearings. Then he spoke : 

‘‘ Look here ; suppose you apply for a year’s leave, 


324 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


and go to Wiesbaden and give yourself a chance. Get 
me appointed as your locum tenens simply ; then I shall 
see how the thing would work. And there’s your 
chance of coming back to it.” 

‘‘ I wonder if you realise what a generous offer that 
is/' 

Well, will you accept it? ” 

I hardly could, but that I believe I shall never 
take it from you again.” 

I wonder,” said Redway musingly, '' what made 
you come to me. I thought you would have so hated 
putting me in your place. There was a time when 
you could hardly endure that any one should have a 
word of praise for me.” 

I know. I was a jealous beast, and I acknowledge 
that when I first thought of it, I could not face it : it 
seemed that I would rather my work failed under an- 
other than succeeded under you — as I know it is bound 
to succeed. And then, when I sat alone with my trou- 
ble in the dark, I knew that after all I loved the work 
better than myself. Let me be forgotten if it may 
live ! ” 

I shall try and carry it out on the lines you laid 
down. You and I used to differ a good deal on de- 
tail, but I think in the main we were always at one.” 

'' And you will write and tell me how it goes on ? 
I swear I won’t interfere ; but when I think what the 
blank will be, my courage fails. I have lived so com- 
pletely in and for it ; I have nothing else.” 

Remember I shall be holding it for you. I shall 
only be your viceroy till you come again.” 

He shook his head. I don’t buoy myself up with 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 325 

any false hopes. Since you are so generous, I will take 
the year's chance; but I know I am doomed." 

How horribly hard it seems ! I want to tell you 
how awfully sorry I am for you, but we have grown 
strange. I hardly know whether it is the enemy of 
yesterday, or the friend of years ago." 

‘'Won't you let it be the friend of old days? 
Couldn't you try to forget? I have repented. Con- 
tinually I have tried to tell you so, and bridge over the 
quarrel; but it was too difficult." 

“ I have not borne malice. I was awfully angry at 
the time, because I could not conceive what right you 
had to think I wronged you. I suppose we were both 
a little mad." 

“ I was ; and the thing that rankles is that I should 
have sacrificed the reality of your friendship for a 
dream that burnt itself to ashes like a fire that has 
nothing to feed on. What made me so bitter was that 
it should have been you that had injured me. Any 
other fellow I could have forgiven ; only not you." 

“ But you have now? " 

“ I want you to understand the position," went on 
Knowles, with his eyes on the fire. “ You may fancy 
that a phantom still stands between us, but there is 
no such thing. What I loved was my own fancy, not 
your wife." 

“ I know. I soon saw that. Well, if the knowledge 
that I am still your friend, and will carry on your work 
loyally as you would yourself, is any comfort to you, 
you have it." 

Far into the night they sat and talked : of the future 
and the plans which Knowles had made and would 
now never be able to carry out, save through his sue- 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


326 

cessor; of the past that they had shared, strengthen- 
ing many an old link. When at last they parted, 
Roger, who had seen his friend to his own door, re- 
turned to his house marvelling to himself. Friend- 
ship it seemed might rise again, like a phoenix, from 
its ashes. Could Love? 

The day that he trod the familiar ground and took 
the baton in his hand once more, was a strange one 
to him. He found himself welcomed warmly, but 
with little demonstration : for every one felt keenly 
for the terrible misfortune which had come upon poor 
Knowles. Without being exactly popular, he had 
made himself respected, and much sympathy was felt 
for him. As one and another of the men came up to 
Redway with a word of greeting, and told him how 
glad they were to have him amongst them again, he 
felt rather like a regent receiving the fealty of his 
subjects; but the occasion was a shadowed one: it 
was rather a responsibility than a triumph. 

As he came away and was passing the tea-room, 
he heard his name, and pausing saw Sir Hervey and 
Lady Gilderdale sitting at one of the little tables. He 
went in. 

'' Is one to congratulate you ? ’’ said Sir Hervey. 

Thank you, Sir Hervey, it is rather a melancholy 
business. I think we all feel a good deal for our old 
chief.'^ 

‘‘To be sure; you must feel it so. But what I 
meant was, is it a good thing for you to have under- 
taken all this business? You will be burning the 
candle at both ends, I am afraid.’’ 

'' It is rather an undertaking, but I could not have 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 327 

done otherwise. If he recovers, as I hope he may, it 
will only be for a year.’’ 

Sit down, won’t you? and have some tea with us.” 

He hesitated a moment, and looked at Lady Gilder- 
dale. She had given him her hand and uttered a low 
inquiry for Mrs. Redway, but now she was not look- 
ing at him ; she was studying her programme. She 
did not indorse the invitation. He thought she looked 
more haughty than he had ever seen her — haughty 
and pale and weary. 

‘‘ I am afraid I must not, thanks. I have to see a 
man about an appointment here. This brings, of 
course, an infinite number of things to be attended 
to.” 

Well, you must not let your own playing suffer, 
whatever happens : that is too precious to be sacri- 
ficed. Try and make time to come up to Trister- 
wood for an occasional practice, won’t you? ” 

Judith looked up from the programme. I should 
hardly think that would be possible now,” she said. 

No, I’m afraid it will not be at present. Thank 
you so much. Lady Gilderdale, for your wire about 
Mrs. Redway; without it I should have been com- 
pletely in the dark.” 

'' And she is better ? ” 

A little better, thanks, but by no means strong 
yet. We have been getting into our own house again, 
and it has been rather too much for her.” 

And then he went away. 


XXXL 


Em was standing by the fire in her own drawing- 
room, looking round upon her restored domain. 
Everything was as it had been before she went away. 
All that the tenants had displaced was in its old order 
again, and her own belongings were unpacked. Out- 
wardly it seemed as if there had never been any 
change, but she was far from realising that she was at 
home again. She leaned her elbow on the mantelpiece, 
and her head on her hand, and sighed. She was not 
tired ; she only wished she had ‘been : she was weary 
of doing nothing. There seemed nothing for her to do 
now. Beyond the simple ordering of the household, 
she was called upon for nothing. The little nameless 
services that a man looks for from his wife were never 
demanded from her now; Roger did everything for 
himself, and left her free to occupy her time as she 
chose. 

She looked down at her husband as he lay back in 
the armchair beside the hearth, with his hands clasped 
at the back of his head, his eyes shut, his black eye- 
lashes resting on his cheek, and it seemed to her that 
the Roger of her remembrance had vanished, and a 
strange man whom she could not understand, and over 
whom she had no power, had taken his place. It was 
not only that the year had made him look older — that 
he was thinner, darker, harder than he had been; not 
only that he was graver, more reserved than she had 

328 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


329 


ever known him, but there was a sense of distance be- 
tween them that no effort of hers could bridge over. 
He was kind ; oh, yes ! more considerate than he ever 
used to be, but oh, the difference! How he used to 
come bounding up those stairs, eager for her kisses 
after ever so short an absence, brimming over with all 
that he had done, all that he wanted her to do for 
him I Now he came soberly in, asked her kindly how 
she felt and how she had been getting on, and went 
away to his practising-den, or snatched a brief rest. 

She knew he was working too hard, and she knew 
she could help him if he would only let her. The con- 
ducting part of the business, and arranging the pro- 
grammes, he thoroughly enjoyed; but all the intri- 
cate business affairs which Graham Knowles had had 
such a faculty for, were an incessant worry to him. 
He was resolute to let nothing slip, and he never 
spared himself. Often he practised far into the night, 
for whatever he sacrificed to the well-being of the 
orchestra, it should not be his own playing. He would 
not suffer the delicacy and firmness of wrist, the per- 
fection of tone that he had won, to be impaired for 
want of using: so he was, as Sir Hervey had pre- 
dicted, burning the candle at both ends. Luckily he 
had the gift, invaluable to a busy man, of being able 
to drop asleep when he got a few minutes’ interval, 
as he had done this evening. 

Presently he felt his wife’s eyes upon him, breaking 
his rest, and he looked up at her. She was still stand- 
ing by the mantelpiece, slim and fair in her white eve- 
ning gown; so pretty! but with a weary, fretful look 
on her face. 


330 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


What is it?’’ he said. “ Do you want anything? 
I am afraid I was asleep.” 

'' Oh, I am sorry I woke you. No — Yes, I do. I 
want you to let me go away again.” 

He drew himself up and sat leaning forward, his 
hands resting on the arms of his chair. Am I so 
hateful to you after all? ” he said. 

''Yes, yes!” she cried wildly. "I hate you; I do 
hate you. Oh, I didn’t think you would have been so 
vindictive ! ” 

He smote his hand upon the arm of the chair. 
" What have I done ? ” he cried. " In Heaven’s name, 
what have you against me now?” 

She began to cry passionately. " Oh, you are cruel, 
you are hard ! I thought you were so kind and pitiful 
when you came to take me home, or I wouldn’t have 
come. I suppose you want to pay me in my own 
coin.” 

" I can’t understand you,” he said despairingly. 
" You wanted liberty and independence ; surely I have 
given you both. What more could I have done for 
you? ” 

" Oh,” she cried, " I don’t want to live in your 
house as a visitor, eating the bread of charity! It 
humiliates me to the dust. You don’t want me; well, 
let me go then, and earn my own livelihood some way. 
I could at least be a nursemaid. I will leave you 
Betty, since she is the only thing you care for.” 

He looked at her in dumb perplexity and despair. 
She went on: 

" Of course I ought to have said this before. I 
ought never to have let you leave the Ercolanis and 
take the house again; but somehow I fancied that 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


331 

when we got home it would be different: but it isn’t; 
it is more dreadful.” 

'' Look here ; it’s time we talked this out and un- 
derstood each other. The whole position seems im- 
possible, somehow. I am afraid the only thing will 
be for us to separate finally. I can’t go on like this.” 

No,” she answered in a toneless voice. That 
will be best.” 

‘‘You see,” he went on, “there lies this absolute 
blank of nearly a year and a half between us. Who 
knows what ghosts may rise out of it to separate us 
again? I thought we might have bridged it over,, 
but it seems we cannot.” 

“Oh, Dodge!” the old familiar name slipped out 
unconsciously. “You don’t mean that — that — ?” 

“ That there are any ghosts on my side you need 
be afraid of meeting? No, there are not. Though by 
Heaven! I don’t know what right you have to de- 
mand it.” 

“ I haven’t, I haven’t. And yet — but oh, Roger, 
you don’t suspect me?” 

“ How should I know what to think? When I 
find you already hankering to go back, one must 
surely wonder why.” 

She wrung her hands. “ Oh, how shall I convince 
you? Let me tell you everything.” She came and 
knelt down beside him, hiding her eyes against the 
arm of his chair. “ You remember you warned me 
about Valentine Garcia. Well, he was very kind 
about getting me work and so on, and there never 
was anything till just the very end; when I was ill 
and down on my luck, he came in one evening and 
coolly asked me if I would go and stay with him on 


332 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


his house-boat as ‘ housekeeper/ At the first minute 
I did not understand, and then he laughed; and I was 
nearly ready to murder him/' 

Roger drew a sharp breath. ‘‘Shall I go up and 
horsewhip him?" he said. 

She looked up at him. “ I believe you would. But 
no; it was too much my own fault. I saw then what 
I had done in putting myself in such a position. He 
said — of course he supposed I had cast off all the 
trammels of conventionality. But I was straight al- 
ways. Oh, indeed I was. If you don’t believe me, 
you can ask Mrs. Temple-Smith or the people where 
I lodged." 

“ If I had to ask them, it would be all up. I would 
sooner put away my wife than ask other people about 
her. No, Em, I believe you: for whatever you did, 
you never lied to me." 

“No, I never lied to you. I believe sometimes I 
used to treat you with a brutal frankness." 

“ I wish you would be entirely frank and open with 
me now. I cannot understand, and I will not let you 
go away again until I do. What makes it so impos- 
sible for you to stay with me? It cannot be your rest- 
less ambition: for at present your going on the stage 
is out of the question, whatever I might wish. In- 
deed, if your voice comes back, as I hope it may, it 
will never be strong enough for that sort of work." 

“ I know, I know. I have quite given all that up. 
But there are other things one might do, I suppose." 

“ But why? Still you don’t explain why you cannot 
stay with me. Is it something in yourself, or some- 
thing in me? ’’ 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


333 

I wonder — don’t you know how cruel you are, 
how changed ? ” 

Changed? I suppose I am. I don’t think you at 
all realised what you did to me when you went away 
a year and a half ago. If you expected to find the 
same man you left, you must have looked on me as a 
kind of mechanical toy.” 

And so you think to punish me by making me 
taste the same sort of pain. Oh, I know now I was 
a hateful brute to you; but I didn’t know it then; I 
didn’t understand.” 

And what makes you understand now? ” His 
voice shook a little as he put the question. 

It is no matter now. It is too late : I see that 
plainly enough. Some one said to me once — ‘ Pray 
God to give you another chance.’ I thought I had 
it ; but it is a mockery. I will not have the husk when 
once I had the kernel.” 

‘‘ Em, Em ! What do you mean ? ” 

People always say that a man’s love soon burns 
out. The more he has* cared for you, the sooner he 
tires. I don’t suppose you even remember what I 
once made you suffer. If you did, you would be a lit- 
tle more pitiful I think.” 

He stooped forward close to her. 

Does this mean that you love me? If it does, put 
your arms round my neck and kiss me as you have 
never kissed me yet.” 


XXXII. 


There sometimes occurs in a strong soul, a love 
firm enough to transform itself into impassioned 
friendship, so as to become a duty, and appropriate 
the quality of virtue/’ 

Judith let the volume of Chateaubriand in which 
she was reading, sink on her knee, while her eyes 
wandered away, as the eyes of those who muse are 
apt to do, beyond the vivid blossoming gardens, be- 
yond the fringe of dark pines, to where the shining 
river broadened, seeking the infinite blue sea. Yes, 
it was possible, though the way was narrow; this was 
what had come to pass in her own life. The friend- 
ship which she once thought lost, had come by peril- 
ous ways, but it had reached a place of safety. It 
had been as A passion that left the ground to lose 
itself in the sky.” They had come in a moment of 
crisis as it were through the fire, unharmed, un- 
singed, neither had the smell of fire passed upon them. 

She took up the book again and turned a leaf or 
two, but her thoughts were no longer on the printed 
page; they had travelled away to that page of her life 
on which the passage had flashed a sudden light, and 
looking back on the way by which she had come, she 
felt like one who, refusing to look down, has traversed 


334 


THE HARP OF LIFE, 


335 

a narrow path where one false step would have been 
fatal, and has gained a serene height. 

Presently she raised her eyes to see the man who 
was in her thoughts, coming towards her, and laying 
down her book she held out her hand. 

Later they were standing together by the gate into 
the wood. After an hour's music she had walked 
down through the garden with him. 

‘‘ And it is well with you now? " she asked, as he 
lingered a minute with his hand upon the gate. 

He smiled and answered: It is well." 

Yet the smile was hardly one of contented prosperity 
or of self-satisfaction. If wishes attained give con- 
tent, he had reason to be satisfied. The position he 
used to covet was his, and the love of the woman he 
had chosen. Yet it was less what had been granted, 
than what had been withheld, that had given meaning 
and colour to his life. These thoughts passed through 
his mind unspoken, but Judith read them. 

After all," she said musingly, our most precious 
things are those we bring out of dark places. Earth 
hides her jewels in a mine." 

‘'Aye; or in the depths of the sea." 

“ And it behoves us when we have to go down into 
deep waters, to bring up something better than salt 
drops. If music tells anything, you have brought up 
pearls out of your sorrow." 

“ Must those who love music, always learn first 
what sorrow means, I wonder ? " 

“ I don't know; but sorrow's gate opens to us many 
meanings beyond itself — joyous ones as well as sad, 
and mystical ones beyond either." 


336 


THE HARP OF LIFE. 


I hope, then, prosperity may not hide them.” 

'^Ah, no; once learnt. For those who have gone 
through the ivory gates always keep the key.” 


THE END. 





“Tense with sustained power.” 

— New York Commercial Advertiser, 


FOLLY CORNER 

By Mrs. HENRY DUDENEY 

1 2mo. $1.25. 

A novel of love against reason in conflict with love 
conformable to reason, worked out with all the power 
of the author's former novel, “The Maternity of Harriot 
Wicken," but much more inviting in subject, characters, 
and treatment. A distinct advance on that able work 
and full of promise for the future of this rising author. 
Scene, Sussex to-day. 

A". K. Commercial Advertiser: “It shows the same deep 
insight into the complications of the human soul [as did the 
author's earlier novel]. . . . This story from the opening 
page is tense with sustained power and is surely destined to be 
one of the most important contributions to this season’s 
fiction.” 

A. Y, Mail and Express : “These pictures have the true 
color, alive with the activity of nature or soothing in its quiet- 
ude. They form a distinct feature of the book, beautify its 
pages and make them notable. ... It has the elements in it 
of a wider popularity [than that of the author’s earlier novel], 
which it deserves in every sense.’* 

Buffalo Commercial : “We find just the same originality in 
plot, skill in character depiction, and the effective presentation 
of events [which characterized ‘The Maternity of Harriot Wic- 
ken’]. . . In the story we see so artistic a description of the play 
of character, the various phases of human goodness and badness 
are so well drawn out, that the book deserves high praise. . . . 
The description of the life of Folly Corner, and the men and 
women seen there, is not surpassed by any work of any 
contemporary novelist. The book is a notable one every way.” 

The Academy ^ London : “ Really interesting; . . . the writ- 
ing is generally vigorous and even brilliant. The comedy is 
first rate. ... It is in fact a successful novel.” 

HENRY HOLT & CO. ^*eV§^rr*** 


III, 1900 


JUST PUBLISHED 


BARROW»S THE FORTUNE OF W.^R A novel of the 

last year of the American Revolution. i2mo. $1.25. 

The scene is laid mainly in New York City during 
the British occupation, partly on one of the prison 
ships, and partly in the patriot camp at Morristown. 
The life in the headquarters of the two armies is 
cleverly contrasted, and the suffering of the Conti- 
nentals during that fearful winter are vividly depicted. 
The story has a strong “ love interest.” 

Springfield Republican: *Tt gives a good picture of New 
York City as it was in the eighteenth century. . . . The 
story is agreeable reading.^’ 

Buffalo Commercial : “ The story is well arranged and 
marks high above the average.” 

Hartford Courant : ** She has done good work in her 
romance; ... it is told in a very attractive way. . . . 
The book is decidedly one that will entertain.” 

Philadelphia North American : “An interesting story 
of the war for independence.” 

GODFREY>S THE HARP OF LIFE 

Uniform with the author’s ” Poor Human Nature.” 
i2mo. $1.50. 

An intensely human story of an episode in the life 
of the first violin of an orchestra, at an English water- 
ing-place. . . . Miss Godfrey has again been uncom- 
monly happy in creating a “musical atmosphere.” 

LUCASES THE OPEN ROAD 

A little book for wayfarers, bicycle-wise and other- 
wise. Compiled by E. V. Lucas, editor of “ A Book 
of Verses for Children.^’ With illustrated cover-lin- 
ings. Green and gold flexible covers. i2mo. $1.50. 

Some 125 poems of out-door life and 25 prose pas- 
sages, representing over 60 authors, including Fitz- 
gerald, Shelley, Shakespeare, Kenneth Grahame, 
Stevenson, Whitman, Bliss Carman, Browning, 
William Watson, Alice Meynel. Keats, Wordsworth, 
Matthew Arnold, Tennyson, William Morris, Maurice 
Hewlett, Izaak Walton, Wm. Barnes, Herrick, Gervase 
Markham, Dobson, Lamb, Milton, Whittier, etc. 

HENRY HOLT & CO. Now York 


III, 1900 


“ On^ of the most important books on Music that has ever 
been published '' — W. J. Henderson, Musical Critic of * 
Times. 

LAVIGNAC’S MUSIC AND MUSICIANS 


Translated by William Marchant. Edited by H. E. Krehbikl, 
With 94 illustrations and 510 examples in musical notation. 2d 
Edition, 504 pp. 8vo. $3.00. 

Dial : “ If one had to restrict his musical library to a sing^le volume, we 
doubt whether he could do better than select the work called ‘Music and 
Musicians.’ . , . We find in this new volume the same lucidity of exposi- 
tion, the same economy of arrangement, and the same comprehensiveness, 
... in fact, although not in form, a veritable encyclopaedia of music, 
and will be found equally satisfactory as a work of reference and as a 
text-book for the actual study of counterpoint, the structure of instru- 
ments, the history of music, and the physical basis of musical production. 
A few supplementary pages, by Mr, H. E. Krehbiel, add American com- 
posers to M. Lavignac’s list, and put the finishing touch of usefulness 
upon a work which we cordially recommend to both students and general 
readers.” 

“ It is impossible to speak too highly of this volume ” {Literary 
Review^, Boston). — “The most comprehensive reference-work on music 
published in a single volume and accessible to readers of English ” 
{Review of Reviews), — “An encyclopaedia from which all manner of 
curious facts may be drawn” {Literary World). — “A musical library 
in itself” Tribune). — “A cyclopaedia of knowledge concern- 

ing his art ” {Christian Register). — “ It adds a great deal that the 
student of music is not likely to get elsewhere ” {Springfield Re^ 
publican). — “The most complete and perfect work of its kind” {The 
Home Journal., New York). — “ For the musical student and music teacher 
invaluable if not indispensable ” {Bujfalo Commercial ). — “ He has ap- 
portioned his pages with rare good judgment ” {Churchman ). — “ It is of 
all things thorough ” {Brooklyn Eagle). — “ There is nothing superfi- 
cial about it ” {Hartford Courant). — “ it has a reliability and authority 
which give it the highest value ” {Chicago Tribune). — “ Distinctly scien- 
tific ” {Providence Journal). — “ It seems to have been his desire to let no 
interesting topic escape. . . , The wonder is that those parts of the book 
which ought to be dry are so readable. ... A style which can fairly 
be described as fascinating ” {N. Y. Times). — “ Free from superfluous 
technicalities” {Providence Journal). — “ He has covered the field with 
French clarity and German thoroughness ” {SprUtgfeld Republican). 
— “ Not too technical to be exceedingly useful and enjoyable to every 
intelligent reader ” {Hartford Courant). — “ Lightened with interesting 
anecdotes” {Brooklyn Eagle ). — “He writes brilliantly : even the laziest 
or most indifferent will find that he chains the attention and makes a 
perusal of the history of music a delightful recreation ” {N. Y. Home 
Journal). 

“ Capitally indexed. . . . Mr. Marchant has done his hard task of trans- 
lating exceedingly well ” {Transcript). — , . The pictures of the instru- 
ments are clear and helpful ” {N. Y. Times). — “An unusually handsome 
book” {Musical Record). — “This superb volume” {The Watchman). — 
“This handsome volume, . . . elegantly printed on the best of paper, 
and the illustrations are numerous” {Christian Register). — “An excellent 
translator ” {Providence Journal). — ‘‘ Well translated ” {School and Home 
Education). — “The translation is excellent; . . .handsomely bound” 
{Home Journal). 

HENRY HOLT & CO., 378 Wabash Ave., Chicago 

XII *99 


Will Interest the old hardly less than the young 

— Chicago Evening Poit 

LUCAS’ A BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN 


Over 200 poems, representing” some 8 o authors. Compiled by 
Edward Verrall Lucas. With title-page and cover-lining pic- 
tures in color by F. D. Bedford, two other illustrations, and white 
cloth cover in three colors and gilt. Revised edition, lamo. $2.00. 

Prof, Edward Everett Hale,, Jr. : “ David Copperfield remembered 
learning to walk, and Pierre Loti remembers the hrst time he jumped, 
I think. My earliest recollections are of being sung to sleep by my 
father, who used to sing for that purpose ‘The British Grenadiers* 
and other old-time songs. At about the same period it must have 
been that my mother introduced me to ‘Meddlesome Mattie* and 
* George and the Chimney-sweep.* It was, therefore, with a rush of 
recollection that on opening ‘A Book of Verses for Children* com- 
piled by Edward Verrall Lucas I discovered not only these three 
classics but many another lovely thing by Ann and Jane Taylor, Eliza- 
beth Turner, and others, as well as more modern poems by Stevenson 
and Lewis Carroll. * Can it be,* thought I, ‘that children nowadays 
will stand Ann and Jane Taylor?* An opportunity of experiment 
came very soon. 1 happened to have the book under my arm the next 
day as I stopped to see some friends. They were out, so I asked for 
the children and had afternoon tea with real tea-things in company 
with a large and veiy beautiful doll, and afterward skated about the 
hall on what had originally been toy freight-cars. At last I asked if 
poems would be acceptable. The proposal was received with favor, 
and I was soon seated on a large trunk with Miss Geraldine on one side 
and Mr. Bartlett on the other. I began with a safe one, ‘ The Walrus 
and the Carpenter,’ but went on with the Taylorian ‘ Birds, Beasts, and 
Fishes.* This took very well. I tried another modern (not to push a 

f ood thing into the ground), and then went on with ‘ Tommy and his 
ister Jane.’ This also succeeded, so I continued with others and 
others. We were finally interrupted in our delightful occupation, but 
I regarded the experiment as successful. ... I know of nothing 
better to say of this book than the strictly accurate and unvarnished 
account I have just given. For my own part I thought it one of the 
most delightful books 1 had seen for a long time. 

Critic : “ We know of no other anthology for children so complete 
and well arranged.** 

New York Tribune : “ The book remains a good one ; it contains 
80 much that is charming, so much that is admirably in tune with the 
spirit of childhood. Moreover, the few colored decorations with 
which it is supplied are extremely artistic, and the cover is exception- 
ally attractive.” 

Churchman : ” Beautiful in its gay cover, laid paper, and decorated 
title-page. Mr. Edward Verrall Lucas has made the selections with 
nice discrimination and an intimate knowledge of children’s needs 
and capacities. Many of the selections arc classic, all are refined and 
excellent. The book is valuable as a household treasure.” 

Bookman : ‘‘ A very satisfactory book for its purpose, and has in it 
much that is not only well adapted to please and interest a rational 
child, but that is good, sound literature also.** 

Poet Lore : ” A child could scarcely get a choicer range of verse to 
roll over in his mind, or be coaxed to it by a prettier volume. ... A 
book to take note of against Christmas and all the birthday gift times 
of the whole year round.” 

HENRY HOLT & CO. 


IMPRESSION OF A HUMOROUS TALE 

WELLS> (D. D.) HER 

LADYSHIP>S ELEPHA NT 

With cover by Wm, Nicholson. i2mo, 
$1.25. 

The Nation : “He is probably funny because 
he cannot help it. . . . Its author must consent 
to be regarded as a benefactor of his kind with- 
out responsibility.” 

Boston Transcript : “ The story is on the 
order of Frank Stockton’s cleverest work, and 
having said this it is scarcely necessary to say 
more. . . . Laughable in the extreme. . . , 
Well written.” 

R, H. Stoddard in New York Mail and 
Express: “Mr. Wells has more than enough 
humor to tell his story in a very natural and 
laughable way. He has a great deal of comic 
talent.” 

Chicago Evening Post : “ An instantaneous 
success... . . The most read story of the season.” 

New York Tribune : “ Mr. Wells allows his 
sense of humor to play about the personalities 
of half a dozen men and women whose lives, 
for a few brief, extraordinary days, are inextri- 
cably intertwined with the life of the aforesaid 
monarch of the jungle. . . . Smacks of fun which can be created 
by clever actors placed in excruciatingly droll situations.” 

Philadelphia Times: “As breezy a bit of fiction as the reading 
public has lately been offered. Amusing from the first page to the 
last, unique in conception, and absolutely uproarious in plot.” 

New York Commercial Advertiser : “ A really delicious chain of 
absurdities which are based upon American independence and im- 
pudence; . . . exceedingly amusing.” 

Outlook : “ Full of amusing situations.” 

Bujplalo Express : “ So amusing is the book that the reader is al- 
most too tired to laugh when the elephant puts in his appearance.” 



From the back of Wm. 
Nicholson^ s cover for 
“ Her Lady Shipp's Ele- 
phant:'* 


ELLIOTT'S THE DURKET SPERRET 


A Romance of the Cumberland Mountains. (Uniform with the 

author’s Jerry ^ John Paget ^ and The Felmeres.) i2mo. $1.25. 

The Nation: “A homespun heroine in whose possibility one is 
glad to believe.” 

Literary World: “ It can bear re-reading and is remembered with 
pleasure.” 

New York Tribune : “ Worth reading a second time.” 

New York Commercial Advertiser : “Strengthens Miss Elliott’s 
reputation as a novelist. . . . Each character is sustained and vigor- 
ous.” 

Independent : “ Decidedly above the common. Its descriptive 
pages are good; its sketches of mountain life and the character of 
the mountain girl chosen for the heroine are excellent.” 

New York Times: “The utter sincerity and naturalness of dialogue 
are features that should claim particular attention.” 


HENRY HOLT & CO. 


2 1 St Impression of a Remarkable Romance, 


THE GADFLY. 

By E. L. Voynich. i2mo, cloth. $1.25. 

New York Tribune : “It is nothing^ more or less than one of the 
most powerful novels of the decade. . . . He shows us the veritable 
conspirator of history, who plotted like a human being and not like an 
operatic bandit. . . . It is a thrilling book and absolutely sober. . , , 
* The Gadfly ’ is an original and impressive being ; . , . a story to 
remember.” 

New York Times : “ Paradox worked up with intense dramatic effect 
is the salient feature of ‘ The Gadfly . shows a wonderfully strong 
hand, and descriptive powers which are rare; ... a very remarkable 
romance.” 

The Dial: “One of the most interesting phases of the history of 
Nineteenth Century Europe. The story of the Italian revolutionary 
movement; ... is full of such incidents as the novelist most desires; 
. . . this novel is one of the strongest of the year, vivid in conception, 
and dramatic in execution, filled with intense human feeling, and 
worked up to a tremendously impressive climax.” 

The Critic : “ An historical novel permeated with a deep religious 
interest in which from first to last the story is dominant and absorbing. 
. . . ‘ The Gadfly ’ is a figure to live in the imagination.” 

The New York Herald: “ An exceptionally clever story, eminently 
fresh and original. The author has a capital story to tell, and he tells 
it consummately well. . . . The beaten track has not allured him, and 
the characters to whom he introduces us are not such as we meet in 
every-day novels. This is the crowning merit of this book.” 

The Chap Book : “ Gives the reading public an opportunity to wel- 
come a new and intense writer; ... a profound psychological study; 
... a powerful climax. Yet, however much the imagination be used, 
the author will be found to rise beyond it; the scene at High Mass on 
the feast of Corpus Christi being one of the most powerful in English 
fiction.” 

The Independent: “We have read this peculiar romance with 
breathless interest; ... a romance of revolutionary experiences in 
Italy; lifelike, stirring, picturesque, a story of passion, sacrifice, and 
tragic energy.” 

The Literary World : “A powerful and picturesque story — a canvas 
glowing with color and life — the few striking characters stand out in 
firm, resolute outlines. We heartily commend ‘ The Gadfly.’ ” 

The Buffalo Commercial: “In every way sharp, thrilling, enter- 
taining.” 

The Chicago Post “ A powerful story, and, unlike others of its kind, 
holds the reader’s attention strictly to the end.” 

The Chicago Tunes- Her aid: “ ‘ The Gadfly ’ is a tremendous story. 
It goes on like a whirlwind, gathering force as it rushes.” 

HENRY HOLT & CO., 


Better than the * Prisoner of Zenda.^ 

10 th Impression of the Sequel to 
“ The Prisoner of Zenda ” 

H0PE>S RUPERT OF HENTZAU 

From the memoirs of Fritz von Tarlenheim. With eight full-page 
illustrations by Charles Dana Gibson. i2mo, $1.50. 

» A. Dithmar in New York Times' Saturday Review : “Delight- 
fully stirring and irresponsible, ... a sequel . . . for a wonder as 
vigorous and powerful as its original. ... It seems to bring romance 
to life again.” 

Li/e: “A sequel to ‘Zenda’ which does not let down one bit the 
high standard of chivalrous love which was the charm of that romance. 
. . . Mr. Hope’s heroes are never dull. . . . These ‘Zenda’ stories 
have added a distinctly modern value to what men and women mean 
by the ‘ sense of honor.’ . . . The closing chapters are simply written, 
elevated in sentiment, and an ideal solution of the fate oi Flavia and 
Rudol/N 

Geo. W. Smalley in New York Herald : “ A story which lays a spell 
upon you. The animation is unceasing, and so, therefore, is the in- 
terest. . . . Mr. Hope has not lost his old deftness in dialogue. . . . 
The scene between the two men [Sapt and James] after the murder 
... is a masterpiece.” 

New York Tribune : “ Everything moves swiftly and naturally to 
the climax, upon which, we may add, Mr. Hope has wreaked himself 
with a tact that is perhaps the best thing in the book. . . . It is absorb- 
ing, and especially is it an excellent sequel, which is more than can be 
said of most books of its kind.” 

Springfield Republican : “ It is a question whether it does not rival 
‘ The Prisoner of Zenda ’ itself in excellence. . . . It strikes a stronger 
and deeper note.” 

Brooklyn Eagle; “Has the ring of genuine humanity and true 
romance.” 

Chicago Tribune : “ Considered as a sequel, the book is surprisingly 
good. It retains the spirit of ‘Zenda,’ is fertile in invention, swift in 
movement, and is of a thrilling and absorbing nature.” 

6th Impression of the New Edition of 

H0PE>S PRISONER OF ZENDA 

With five full-page illustrations by Charles Dana Gibson, and a 
view and plan of the castle by Howard Ince. i2mo, $1.50. 

OTHER BOOKS BY ANTHONY HOPE 

With frontispieces by Rackham, Russell, and Wechsler. i8mo, 
75 cents each. 

Indiscretion of the Duchess, 12th Impression. 

The Dolly Dialogues, loth Impression. 

A Change of Air, gth hnpression, 

A Man of Mark, gth Impression. 

Sport Royal, etc., fih Impression. 

HENRY HOLT & CO. 

HI ’99 


29 W. 28d Street 
New York 


BOOKS ABOUT MUSIC 

LAVIGNAC’S MUSIC AND MUSICIANS 

Edited with a chapter on Music in America and brought down 
to i8g7 by H. E. Krehbiel, author of “ How to Listen to 
Music,” etc., and translated by W. Marchant. With 94 Illus- 
trations and 510 Extracts in Musical Notation. i2mo. $3.00. 
A brilliant, sympathetic, and authoritative work covering 
musical sound, the voice, musical instruments, construction 
aesthetics, and the history of music. A veritable musical cyclo- 
pedia. 

BANISTER’S MUSIC 

A small but comprehensive book on musical theory. 8oc. net. 

“ One would have to buy half a dozen volumes in German, 
French, and English to acquire the contents of this one little 
book.”— A^. Y. Times. 

WAGNER’S ART, LIFE, AND THEORIES 

Selections from his Writings translated by E. L. BURLINGAME, 
with a Preface, a Catalogue of Wagner’s published works, 
and drawings of the Bayreuth Opera House. Revised Edi- 
tion. i2mo. $2.00. 

The contents includes The Autobiography— The Love Veto, 
being the Story of the First Performance of an Opera— A Pil- 
grimage to Beethoven— An End in Paris— Der Freischiitz in 
Paris— The Music of the Future— Tannhauser in Paris— The 
Purpose of the Opera— Musical Criticism— The Legend of the 
Nibelungen. 

WAGNER’S RING OF THE NIBELUNG 

By G. T. Dippold. Revised Edition. i2mo. $1.50. 

The mythological basis is explained. (76 pp.) Then the 
stories of the four music dramas are given with translations of 
many passages and some description of the music. (160 pp.) 

MOSCHELES’ RECENT MUSIC AND MUSICIANS 

(1794-1870) as described in the Diaries and Correspondence of 
IGNATZ Moscheles. Selected by his wife. i2mo. $2.00. 

A highly readable book. Spohr, Schumann, Beethoven, Paga- 
nini, Mendelssohn, Malibran, Chopin, Jenny Lind, Meyerbeer, 
Wagner, Liszt, Rossini, Gounod, etc., etc., figure in its pages. 

JOHNSON’S OUR FAMILIAR SONGS, AND THOSE 

WHO MADE THEM 

Three hundred standard songs of the English-speaking race, 
arranged with piano accompaniment, and preceded by 
sketches of the writers and histories of the songs by HELEN 
Kendrick Johnson. 8vo. $3.00. 

GODFREY’S POOR HUMAN NATURE 

A novel of German musical life to-day. i2mo. $1.50. 

While the love-interest predominates, this story gives an in- 
teresting picture of operatic affairs in Germany, 

FOTHERGILL’S THE FIRST VIOLIN 

i6mo, cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 30c. 

A novel giving a remarkably true picture of German musical 
life. It has passed through over twenty impressions. 

HENRY HOLT & CO., 









•I 

I 




I 










\ 0 ®<. 


'/ it C\ 

■> 3 N 0 ’ ^0 

. »■'“<>/ ^Q. 




AV 

AV 

S -4 

'5^. ' a « S ' <■ ' 0 « X * A 

. O . 0 ^ v’ ♦ 

0 -I -P . A 

’’ '"^z. 

v^ > o 



<V' «> 



^ '^n ^ 



X * 0 


N c ' 4 '^'^ ,. <, ^ «.».■* A 

‘ % °o cP' .v“ . % ./ A 






•>* V 

o o' 


qS '^rl 





:v 0 °x. : 


A 



K 




•.V <= 



^ ^ C> 

•S-. _ ^^//h o o 

,J. O -4 y 

^ 0 « ji. \ ^ O ^ c «» ' a 0 ^ 

A c 0 "* ‘^ <■ '^ p,'^ « ' ' « ♦ 

•^ 4 . V^ 




<\ 0 ^ k'^ i 

*Ox A 



1 " 

q 5 ^ 

V r 





A 


^ » I A 




vVo 


^ r 


A o 



, o'^ » ■■ * ° z '-^ 

ir- ,v, ^ 

%\ " 

>% ° 

' * * ' ^ o’^'^ » ' ' • ■« a:* ^ “ ' ’■ 

iJ 7> 1* 

'>* V 

oo 








iv « ^ 







^ 8 I A * 










.V 

C' /- 

X.o,. '^_ 


*/ 


y 



vl^ r-c^5^<^x W ^ 

.sS\\\ W xA 

■p^ =. 

<* 





<>^ V 

^ o' 


'0 , ^ <' ^ o 4, ,V 

•x' -»? V 

, - '»"- 4 - V^ 


A -p^ 

A ^ 



A'^ '*' 


’ic. <b- 
^ <b^ 




px'J 

0 N 0 • aO 

> > aO^ ^ ^ * 0 






o 





,v.., ,o>^ c, 0^^!«''*‘» ^""'^ 

y . -1 yp » ,-srR^ ^ O C> x^ 'P 

n cfc^An'^ ^ ^ Jl^ni/Z^ i‘ ->' <> 




.<5 = 

#' ,c 

> ■^, ^V' ^ 


fL. y ^ '' w _’ 1 

* 0 N 0 ■’ ^0’ 

. > » ■' • « 

: % / ' 

v> 



K" ^iU \KH 

<D j 

* <5- * 


* » ' ’■’ . \^^ S 0 » , % * ^ ^ ° " ^0 O, 

C' v' Ol^'^'V > ,0^ ‘o 

^ ^ .V - 




S' <y ^ 
C^- ^ N 


^ - Z 

'h- ° 

' ' V . . C ■' 0 

- viS ''rf' ^ ° 

0^ 


0 N 




o'"^ ^ V . „ % * ’ ' ' ” % - - 0- ^ 



" 0v>' ^r. 



oS '''^ o u 



, 0 N c '%. ''' “ * ' " 1 I . « ° ^ ^ c “ 

' -^ <' °^ fW ^ --is^ • 

, MMi //y^ ^ j>x <c ,.syA\\\^ >>“ 




V _ ^ _ -4 ^p 



^ ^0• 



.1 s ^ \G^ -<< 

'^.> it it tS I I It 

• -'0^ v^"- * 



. ,^ Y /< 

o 0^ 

' 4 ^ * 

" ^0^ * ' ' '“ s-« V 

'“® JvvwiCwAA^ -t ^ 

^ 2 


4 \* 



\ . 




